


Woolworth Manor

by idiom



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Boss/Employee Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiom/pseuds/idiom
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a son, must be in want of a tutor.When Credence took on the temporary position of tutor at Woolworth Manor, he wasn't expecting to fall in love with the grand estate, its household staff or his young pupil... never mind the boy's father.





	1. A Single Man In Possession Of A Son Must Be In Want Of A Tutor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> My first fic since I got hooked into this fandom! Get ready for a delicious period drama AU with a lot of world building. I’ve tried to go for a very Pride and Prejudice style of writing, calling him ‘Mr. Graves’ like he one of those Mr. Darcy guys.
> 
> LOL Anyway...
> 
> Staring out it's pretty G rated and a bit of a slow burn at first to establish the setting...
> 
> ... but there will be smut.
> 
> Oh yes...
> 
> I can guarantee it.

•:۞:•

On the cusp of his Lordship, Mr. Percival Graves’ abrupt departure to London, Woolworth Manor was in a state of utter chaos. Every live-in member of the staff rushed around all four corners of the grand country estate. From the Dutch gardens to the high painted ceilings, everyone was in a hurry to get the stately home in order.

Two events in two days had caused an uproar throughout the household.

The first was a gossip-driven scandal that culminated in the Graves family governess being let go. The Lestrange heiress, Miss Leta, was sent back to her family in disgrace just one year inter her employ as governess for young master Oliver Graves.

Lord Lestrange was non-too-pleased that any of Leta’s supposed ‘dalliances’ couldn’t simply be overlooked by a fellow peer, but Mr. Graves was not a man to overlook improprieties.

No. The young governess had to be sent home. It was very clear that she cared more for inter-staff flirtations than her charge’s education.

Mr. Graves sighed as he passed the first floor halls of his estate.

Perhaps it was about time for a change. The young master, Oliver Graves, was getting older. He was already five years of age.

His sister-in-law, Lady Seraphina Picquery of the Ilvermorny Picqueries, had long been suggesting that boarding school would be good for the boy.

Boarding school.

Mr. Graves was loath to even consider sending his child away for so many months out of the year. Not yet. Perhaps for his secondary education, but not yet.

“When will you be leaving, My Lord?”

Mr. Graves looked up, having just finished going over the revised staff schedule for the month he’d be away

Miss Porpentina Goldstein, the head housekeeper, was pacing the front hall, wringing her pale hands, looking as anxious as she ever did.

Mr. Graves watched her with a half-amused sideways glace.

“I’ll be on the last train tonight,” he replied.

This was the second issue of the last two days.

Mr. Graves had been called to attend Parliament London. Lord Gellert Grindelwald, sanctimonious as ever, had called for a snap vote to be held in House of Lords. He had some ridiculously avant-garde new piece of legislation in mind. Since it was the esteemed Lord Grindelwald who’d called the vote, any peer who declined to attend the house sitting would be at risk of loosing his peerage and all privileges that went along with it.

“God give me strength... an entire month away revising one of Grindelwald’s backwards legislative proposals.” Mr. Graves groaned. “Perhaps I could just take Oliver to London with me.”

“Without a governess?” Tina baulked at the notion. “Would you leave him alone all day as you work? Take him to Parliament with you?”

Mr. Graves rubbed one finger over his lips. “Are you trying to contribute to my guilt?” he all-but hissed. “Because I can assure you, your additions are not necessary, Miss Goldstein.”

Tina held her tongue, looking down at the floor.

“Yes, forgive me, My Lord. I’m just worried for young master Oliver. One month with no one on staff fully dedicated to him throughout the day.” Tina looked up, her brow arching above sad eyes. “He’ll be so lonely.”

“I know, I know,” Mr. Graves sighed.

He tried to think. He had too much to do. He hated the idea of sending the boy to his aunt’s estate. Seraphina wouldn’t have time for him on such short notice. Not to mention, staying in an unfamiliar house would upset poor Ollie.

The boy needed a new minder at home, at Woolworth.

A governess? No. They weren’t going down that road again.

A full-time tutor then.

“Damn, I haven’t the time to inquire after any new staff,” Mr. Graves said, more to himself than to Tina. He ran one hand over his face, the frustration of the weeks events had drawn hard lines across handsome features.

Tine saw this his anxiety and nodded as she began formulating a plan. “I will create a schedule for you to review before you leave. My sister and the other maids can trade off minding the young master. He won’t have proper educated tutorage for the month, but–“

“Miss Goldstein, you and the others all have work to do. I don’t want you running about trying to arrange–“ Mr. Graves paused. “Miss Goldstein.”

Tina’s eyes went a bit wide and she bit her bottom lip.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Don’t you have a child?”

Tina was appalled at the suggestion. Being an unmarried woman in household service at an estate as grand as Woolworth Manor, it would be a complete scandal.

“A child? Me?”

“No, I don’t mean–” Mr. Graves paused to find the right words. “Not your child. That orphan boy you look after. Your sister mentioned to him while she was serving the tea the other week.”

“Did she now...” Queenie... Tina pursed her lips. It wasn’t acceptable to bother the master of the house with personal trivialities.

“Yes. Mrs. Kowalski was brining the tea in and she said you were all very proud that your boy finished his studies at university. Graduated top of his class.” Mr. Graves was repeating the words in a way that he wasn’t really interested in the inane conversation, but on the plan that was forming in the back of his mind.

“Is the child back in town?” 

Tina sighed. “He’s not a child anymore. But yes, I received a letter that he’s taken up lodgings in town until he can find a flat of his own.”

Mr. Graves was nodding absently. He looked up at Tine, raising his dark brow curiously.

“Do you suppose he’d be interested in the position? As Oliver’s tutor?”

Tina sucked in a breath. It was a brilliant idea, but– “Oh, I couldn’t say, my Lord. He can be very dour; I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s no good with children.”

Mr. Graves cocked his head to one side. “But, surely you wouldn’t have funded his education if you did not think him dependable.”

“You misunderstand!” Tina gasped. “He’s very responsible! And a perfect gentleman! I’m just... I haven’t exactly seen him often and... well, I just don’t know if he’d be interested in tutoring or child-minding. He seems keen on practising law.”

Mr. Graves was impressed by that. He’d been thinking about hiring an assistant, civil servitude was gruelling work. Still, in that moment his mind was too busy with the pressing matter of his son’s tutorage to further discuss any other possibilities.

“If it’s only for a month, perhaps? I can find another tutor later if your boy doesn’t wish to stay, but I’m sure he’ll find the salary worth his while.”

Tina fiddled with her sleeve as her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Well, my Lord, I’ll have to go ask this afternoon and bring him to be interviewed if he accepts and–”

Graves waved a passive hand.

“If you say he’s a gentleman, I trust you.” Graves was already heading upstairs to go pack his bags. “He can take up Miss Lestrange’s old rooms first thing in the morning.”

“Alright, my Lord, but there’s no guarantee that he’ll–“ Tina’s voice slowed as she watched Mr. Graves walk away, returning to his rooms.

With a sigh, Tina fetched her coat.

•:۞:•

Having no children of her own, no one and nothing in particular to spend money on, Tina had let the savings from her exorbitant salary build and build over the years. She wasn’t like Queenie: planning to start a little business of her own with her husband, Jacob, the chef at Woolworth; or spending money on fine lace gowns, sweets, cakes and expensive crockery for ‘when we have a place of our own’–Queenie so often liked to gush.

No. Tina did little besides work and she didn’t have much interest in anything else. It was her work at Woolworth Manor that gave her the greatest amount of pride.

However, one day, almost ten years back, everything changed.

She was in town shopping for supplies, when she came across a young boy sniffling outside the orphanage yard’s gate. He was pale and wan, his hands all scratched up, knuckles rapped bloody. Surely there was no great evil any boy could do to deserve such treatment.

That was how Tina first met Credence: a boy being punished without dinner in the cold for some ‘sin’ he’d committed–since when was not properly bushing your hair a sin?

That day, Tina crouched down and offered him the first gentle ear he’d ever had. It was a sign and from then on she became the child’s benefactor, sending money for him to the orphanage, enough to have him taken away and enrolled in a proper boarding school. Once Credence finished his secondary education there, she even secured a position at Mr. Graves’ alumnus university so he could receive their nations highest degree of education. All it took was a quick signature from his Lordship and the boy was on his way to the finest university in the land.

It was expensive, but Tina was so happy. With only a small amount of her own lavished income she was able to completely change this young man’s life.

So now, knocking on Credence’s door ten years after that first meeting on the curb outside the orphanage, Tina could only hope that he would be willing to do this small thing for her in return.

•:۞:•

Credence opened his front door with a shocked, but radiant smile on his face.

“Miss Goldstein! What a lovely surprise. And perfect timing! Come in, I just made a pot of tea.”

“Credence? Hello, you’re looking well.” Tina was surprised by the young man before her. They wrote often, but hadn’t seen each other more than a handful of times, if Credence could made it into town during the university holidays.

He’d really grown up.

Credence was far from the dour fourteen-year-old Tina remembered. His hair had gown out of that terrible bowl cut the nuns always gave him and was now waving down past his ears. He stood taller than she remembered, without the repressed hunch that he bore for years, even after leaving the orphanage.

Truly, time at university had broken him out of his shell.

“How was your graduation ceremony?” Tina asked as she sat down at the tiny table in the tiny kitchenette in Credence’s tiny rented room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see it in person.”

Credence turned around carrying a tray with a pot and two cups of tea. He set them down on the table.

“It was wonderful, Miss Goldstein. I got your letter, so you were there in spirit.”

Credence smiled as he sat down at the small table across from his patron. Though their meetings were rare, he always loved getting to sit and talk with Tina. She was truly the one person he trusted most with all things, in all his life.

“Oh, wonderful!” Tina picked up her cup and started mixing in milk and sugar, distractedly putting in far too much of both. “You had a good last year then?”

“Yes! I was almost sad to leave,” Credence sighed. “I learned a lot, but I would like more experience. Perhaps a position as a clerk in a law firm.”

Tina bit her lip. The more Credence spoke the firmer she was in her assumption that he would have no interest in the position she was offering.

“So, do you have any prospects, dear?” Tina said, too soon after a sip of too sweet tea. Her voice came out sounding a bit shrill as she continued awkwardly:

“Any work? Are you looking for work?”

Somehow, Credence didn’t notice anything suspicious.

“Yes. I’ve just started soliciting for assistant work in town. I’m just hoping earn money so I can go back to university and earn further certification,” he said.

As he bowed his head, a light blush painted his pale cheeks.

“As much as I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Miss Goldstein, I don’t want you playing my patron forever.”

Tina was smiling and nodding, but only half listening to the boy as he went on thanking her for all she’d given him over the years.

“Earning money, yes. Do you happen to have experience with children at all?”

“Oh!” Credence’s eyes lit up. “I do love children. I used to be asked to mind the little ones at the orphanage when Sister Mary–“ he stopped suddenly, noticing the earnest wide-eye look he was getting from his patron.

“Miss... What’s this about?”

Tina let out the breath she’s been holding and her entire body seemed to relax. She put down her tea and, as she did, her shoulders lowered away from where they were scrunched up nearly to her ears.

“I came on behalf of my employer, Lord Graves of Woolworth Manor. He’d like to offer you a position in the household effective, well, immediately.”

Credence actually seemed intrigued.

“Full-time employment? In a nobleman’s household? The sort of position that comes with a room on the estate?”

“Yes,” Tina was nodding. “To all of it. Yes. It’s a luxurious abode.”

“And the position?”

“Work as a tutor for Lord Graves’ young son, master Oliver Graves,” Tina replied.

“A child’s tutor?” Thus the question about children, Credence surmised. Still, he was shocked that such a role would ever fall to him.

“Surely a Lord like Mr. Graves would want one of the great minds of the country working with his son, not an orphan fresh out of his schooling,” he said, shaking his head.

“But Credence, you’re brilliant,” Tina gushed with a heartfelt sadness that he couldn’t see it too. “You were top of your class! You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself. This is a great opportunity for your wallet for now, but you’ll be a lawyer someday soon, I know it.”

“But, I don’t know if– I didn’t study education.” Credence bit his bottom lip, finding himself anxiously mimicking Tina. “I may not be any good with the boy.”

“Oh, but Oliver’s only five and he’s such a good boy. Precious child, he just needs a friend this month. Besides, I’m sure there’s all sorts of teaching paraphernalia we can purchase. You won’t be alone in this.”

Credence felt a timid heat flare up in his chest. He was caught between wanting to jump headfirst into this new challenge and wanting to refuse all together.

It was all so sudden.

“Why does Mr. Graves need a new tutor so directly?” he asked.

Tina froze up at the question, her teacup lifted halfway off its saucer. Pursing her lips, she tried to respond without rudeness.

“The last governess was... more interested in the stable master than the child she was meant to be minding.”

“Oh, how lewd.” Credence felt his cheeks grow hot at the thought of the handsome young man who’d wooed away the governess. Some tall, swarthy man who spent his days out in the rough with the animals. God, it was like something out of one of those illicit French romance novel.

“I won’t say anything more about it,” Tina whispered, cutting into Credence’s improper musings. “Gossip is cruel. To summarize, she was dismissed.”

Credence nodded, the blush still slowly fading from his cheeks.

“So a new minder needs to replace her.”

“Exactly. You would be paid handsomely for your trouble and, though Lord Graves would have you stay on longer, just one month is all he needs.” Tina worried her lip.

“So?”

With a sigh, Credence looked around at his current lodgings. A room anywhere on a country estate would be a thousand times better than the dingy flat he was currently renting by the day.

And he loved children. They were always so sweet to him in a way that adults were not.

Shaking his head, Credence knew he had to stop thinking like that. At twenty-two, he was an adult himself now.

“I’ll come for the month,” he agreed with a sharp nod. If only as a favour to Tina, it was the least he could do.

“Oh, Credence!” Tina placed her cup and saucer down with a clatter, too ecstatic to notice she’d nearly broken the dishes. “You have no idea how god you are for doing this. Truly! You are a godsend.”

Credence just smiled.

“I should probably speak with the landlord and start packing my things.”

Tina nodded with vigour. “Please do, I will have Lord Graves’ carriage sent to collect you first thing in the morning. Since he’s in London, he won’t be using it.”

“Alright,” Credence breathed. It was all a bit much; he would have liked to talk with Tina more and get a breakdown of the people he would be working with and his situation in the house, but Tina was already drinking down the last of her tea and getting up to go.

“I must be getting back to Woolworth!” She said excitedly. She wanted to inform Mr. Graves of the good news before he was off. “The house needs to be prepared for Lord Graves’ departure and your rooms, goodness, there’s so much to do.”

“There’s no interview? Are you sure Lord Graves is alright with... all of this?”

“Of course!” Tina was almost exasperated at that point. “Credence, you’re brilliant. How well you did in school...”

A smile stretched across Tina’s lips as she reached out to touch Credence’s cheek.

Only she forgot...

Credence sucked in a sharp breath and started putting away the teacups before her hand could reach him.

Tina sighed and turned away to pull her coat back on. “I have no worries, Credence, and I am the head of the household. If I have no worries, neither does Mr. Graves.”

“Alright. I’ll try to be like you both then.” Credence stood then to show her out. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss Goldstein.”

Tina clapped her hands. “I’ll give you the full tour!”

With a little laugh and a final wave, Credence closed the door behind Tina.

He leaned against a door and sighed before turning to looked over his room and the meagre belongings therein.

It would be a good experience, he promised himself.

And it wouldn’t be hard.

Just one month.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter we will meet young master Oliver Graves.
> 
> Your kudos hasten his Lordship's return to the manor.
> 
> Your comments help Credence get ready for his first big day.


	2. Credence Arrives At Woolworth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence makes the acquaintance of young master Oliver Graves.

•:۞:•

The sun had yet to rise when the private carriage that had fetched Credence rolled through a swirling wrought-iron gate and up the path to the grand Graves family estate. Everything was perfect, from the manicured trees lining the drive to the curving staircase that led to the front door of that regal house.

Woolworth.

Leaning out the widow, Credence was left breathless at the sight of the palatial manor.

As soon as they rolled to a halt, he hopped from the carriage, staring up at the heights that would be his new home. This lavish country house was something that had been build for nobility, the descendants of kings and queens; Credence could hardly even picture himself living within its walls.

At the sound of a horses whinny, Tina came rushing down the stairs. She was dressed for work in her house uniform, a matronly outfit that was all shades of blue from navy to sky.

“Credence, welcome to Woolworth!” She said as she approached with a hesitant smile on her face. “Thank you so much for coming. I trust there was no trouble on the way?”

“None at all,” Credence replied. He brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes, shyly aware that though he was surrounded by humble maids and footmen, they were all impeccably dressed and pressed to stiff, clean precision.

“I’m so glad you’ve arrived early,” Tina continued. “The young master is still asleep so I will have time to show you the house before we wake him for breakfast.”

Credence nodded and turned back to the carriage. He made to take his trunk, but Tina stopped him as soon as she realized what he was doing.

“No, no, don’t do that. We’ll have a footman take care of your things. Abernathy! Have these brought up to Leta’s old room please.”

As Credence was led up the stairs a footman rushed out through a tall set of wooden doors. He was dressed to the nines in a perfectly ironed suit with handsome silver buttons.

“Will I be dressed like that?” Credence asked without looking away.

“You’re a tutor, not a footman,” Tina replied with a short laugh. “You may wear what you wish. Casual clothes are alright though I would recommend a good suit if you ever find yourself with Oliver in the drawing room.”

She paused and turned to look at him.

“You do have a suit, don’t you?”

“Um, I suppose.” Credence replied, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I have the suit I wore to Sister Mary Lou’s funeral.”

Tina’s eyes went wide. She closed them and tilted her head up towards the ornamented ceiling. Credence barely heard a whispered prayer leave her lips.

“Lord give me strength. It’ll have to do,” she muttered before turning to lead him into the hall.

Credence found himself briefly following her gaze upwards. He could trace the arching staircases up and up three floors. The marble and granite shined and curved below a painted ceilings with gilded accents.

This place was magic.

“As you can probably tell, this is the front hall,” Tina said, beginning the tour. “The main stairway here will take you to all three floors.”

She led the way through the entire house over the course of a half hour. The first floor held the dining room, drawing room, conservatory and a ballroom mainly just used when Lord Graves was entertaining his most prestigious guests. There were more little areas, but Credence found the excess dizzying. He could hardly remember all the different names of things. And besides, he was a tad distracted after they left the drawing room.

Inside, over one of the many grand fireplaces scattered throughout the house, there was a portrait of a rather beautiful woman with olive-skin in a violet dress. Clearly she was a great beauty, youthful, with long hair braided with fine ribbons. A golden wedding band had been painted to shine bright on her ring finger.

“Who is that?” Credence asked, gazing up at that portrait where it hung surrounded by several others. They must have been members of the Graves family, but this woman stood out. Obviously she was not directly related to the dark and stern-looking men and women featured in the other portraits.

Tina looked up at the wall and sighed. “That is the late Lady Graves.”

Credence sucked his lip and nodded.

“She’s quite lovely.”

“Yes. She was.” Tina’s brow knit sadly. Turning on a heal, she quickly walked them out of the room.

“Follow me, please, Credence.”

The went up to the second floor, that was filled with bed rooms, mostly empty and unused. Credence’s own room was on this floor, directly across from young master Oliver’s. Tina didn’t want to wake the child quite yet, so they skipped the second floor and went up to the third.

“This is the library and the study hall for the young master.” Tina said as they walked through the room that took up most of the third level of the house. “You will be teaching in here mostly, but the drawing room is not off limits. Ah! Always...”

Tina huffed, suddenly distracted by a few novels left out of place on a table. She marched over and snatched them up.

As Tina went about replacing the forgotten books on their proper shelves, Credence let his gaze linger longingly over the literature that decorated the beautifully carved wooden shelves throughout the library. The Graves manor had an impressive collection ranging from classics and popular modern works to first-hand historical documentation authored by members of the Graves family.

“Is, anything off limits?” Credence asked absently as his fingers traced the spines of books, reading over the unfamiliar titles.

Tina crossed her arms over her chest and looked up thoughtfully, as if trying to remember.

“Only his Lordship’s study and the master bedroom. Mr. Graves doesn’t like us cleaning in there without his express permission so no one touches his study without orders and the bedroom is done only once a week on the Sunday morning while the master is away at church.”

Tina waved that off. “Not that it matters to you; don’t worry yourself about any of the cleaning. Come! I’ll introduce you to the young master.”

Credence followed Tina out of the library, closing the door behind them. Back on the second floor, Tina first pointed out a door on the far end of the hall.

“That’s Mr. Graves’ bedroom, the rest down this hall are currently guest quarters,” she said before leading them both down the hall in the opposite direction. At the end of the corridor, she opened one door and slowly peaked inside.

“Still fast asleep,” she whispered.

Credence looked over her shoulder into the room.

Inside, with his little face snuggled into a pillow, Oliver Graves was still dreaming the morning away. His unruly back hair tumbled across his forehead and fell into his eyes. Credence could see an all-too-familiar redness about them.

No doubt, the boy had fallen asleep crying.

“He’ll not be up for a while still. It was hard to get him to bed last night,” Tina explained as she closed the door. “Poor thing. Misses his father.”

Ever the empath, Credence ached for this child he did not yet know. He hoped the boy would come to like him, at least enough so as to not feel such a loss at his father’s absence.

“Your room is just across the way.”

Credence opened the door himself at Tina’s bequest. The room was larger than any flat he’d ever lived in.

Tina moved past him into the room and pulled back the curtains, flooding the space with light.

The tall windows cast intricatly latticed shadows across the polished wooden floors. His trunk had already been brought upstairs and sat at the end of a grand bed. An armoire, and dressing table took up much of the space, but through a small open alcove Credence could see that he had his own bath in the adjoining room.

“Is it satisfactory?” Tina asked, knowingly.

Credence almost laughed. “It’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Tina smiled. It was all that she ever wanted for him.

“Alright, come now. Are you ready?”

Credence sucked in a deep breath and nodded.

“Good. I’ll wake Oliver, and introduce you,” Tina said as she led him back across the hall.

“He’s a very smart boy, and very honest. You can trust him to know his schedule for the day, but if he tries any silliness, find me. I’ll be around. Address him as, young master, sir, or master Oliver.”

“Master? But... he’s still just a child.”

Tina raised a fine brow. “Yes, a nobleman’s child,” she drawled. “That being said, when Mr. Graves returns you may call him such or you may refer to him as my Lord, your Lordship, or Master Graves, whichever sits best on your tongue. Is that all clear?”

Credence swallowed. He wasn’t sure he’d remember all of those titles, but he simply replied, “Yes, Miss Goldstein.”

•:۞:•

Oliver Graves woke with very little urging as soon as Tina sat at the edge of his bed. His dark eyes blinked open and he smiled up at the maid who smiled right back at him.

“Good morning, young master,” Tina said in a soft voice.

It filled Credence with a familiar warmth. He found himself smiling at the memory of their first meeting.

Oliver blinked and sat up slowly to stretch and yawn.

“Good morning, Miss Goldstein, I–“ The boy stopped suddenly, looking down at his blankets where his tiny hands fisted into the sheets. He seemed positively miserable.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult last night,” he sniffled quietly.

Tina brushed the boy’s hair back off his face and shushed him. “No bother, young master. I understand. Of course you were upset.”

Oliver nodded solemnly, then looked up. His drawn expression opened up suddenly, blooming with curiosity.

“Who is that?” he gasped.

Tina ushered Credence forward and introduced them.

“Young master Oliver, this is Credence.”

“Mr. Credence?” the boy asked.

“Just Credence,” he replied. As an orphan of unknown parentage, he didn’t have any family to link his name to and he had no desire to take the wretched ‘Barebone’ name the orphanage had given him.

“I’ll be your new tutor.”

Oliver looked up at him with wide eyes; Credence wasn’t sure if he was in awe or scared.

“Credence is here to replace Miss Lestrange, young master,” Tina explained.

Oliver looked between the two of them, before pulling his knees up to his chest. He was so small in that large bed. It was in many ways adorable, or it would be if he didn’t look so delicate and sad.

“You know, Oliver,” Tina said. “Credence was a lot like you when he was little.”

_Was I?_

“Was he?” Oliver looked up at the tall young man standing in the shadows at the end of his bed. He couldn’t picture him ever being small. “You knew Tina when you were little?” he asked.

“I did. Tina has been very good to me,” Credence replied.

“And Credence has been good to me,” Tina added. “He was kind enough to agree to come here and care for you while your father is away.”

Oliver smiled and leaned into Tina’s hand as she rubbed his cheek.

Credence felt his heart melting to a hot pool in his chest. Perhaps he and Oliver were alike, but they were equally opposites. While Credence had been a wan and ashen child, Oliver was pale, but glowing in his good health. They had the same midnight-black hair, though where Oliver’s was a mass of unruly waves, Credence’s childhood style had always been a clean, but ugly cut, like a monk without a tonsure.

Most of all, Oliver leaned into a motherly touch where Credence would have pulled away.

Tina turned to him then, cutting off his melancholic train of thought.

“Credence, will you help the young master dress? I have to get back to my regular morning duties.”

“Of course,” Credence replied even though his entire being was anxious over being thrown in so abruptly.

“You’ll be good for Credence, won’t you?” Tina asked Oliver, a little smirk on her lips. She knew the boy and as she suspected he was completely aghast that Tina would even suggest that he was anything less than a perfect angel.

“I’m always good!” Oliver protested.

“So you’ll help Credence and be kind to him. He’s not like Miss Lestrange, he doesn’t yet know what you’ll be expecting of him.”

“I’m kind! I’ll help!” Oliver nodded, mussing his unruly hair even further with the movements.

Tina patted his hair back into place. “Alright then. I have to return to the kitchens to see how breakfast is coming along. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

As Tina left the room, Credence and Oliver stared at each other silently for an embarrassed moment, before Credence cleared his throat and made his way towards the windows. He opened the thick curtains as Tina had done in his room, letting the morning light in.

Oliver watched him with a keen eye. He instantly liked Credence. He wasn’t at all like Miss Lestrange. He didn’t seem unkind and he definitely didn’t look like the type of person who walked around thinking he was better than others.

“Now,” Credence said with a shy smile. “Where do you keep your clothes?”

“In the armoire there...” Oliver pointed. “Um, Credence?”

“Yes, young master?” Credence said, even though it felt so odd to address this small child with such a formal title.

“May... may I choose my outfit for the day?” Oliver asked, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

Credence blinked.

“Of course, you may.” He saw no reason why not. “Did your former governess not let you decide on what to wear?”

Oliver pursed his lips and nodded. “She didn’t talk to me much. She just laid out my clothes in the mornings and then she’d go down and have breakfast with the rest of the staff.”

Credence cocked his head to one side. “Even when your father was away like now?”

Oliver nodded, getting a little teary eyed at the reminder.

“Well! I’ll help you dress in whatever you’d like and then...” Credence paused, touching his lips. He was still unsure of his place in the household. As Tina said, he wasn’t a footman and he wouldn’t be cleaning or fetching things. But he was still a member of staff, not family.

“...I suppose it is up to you with whom I eat breakfast.”

A spark lit up in Oliver’s eyes.

“I can order you to join me in our family dining room for breakfast?” he asked.

Credence laughed. “You wouldn’t have to go around giving orders, as such. But yes, young master. I would happily join you for breakfast, if you wish.”

“Then you shall join me for breakfast!” Oliver announced as he hopped out of bed. He padded towards the armoire, which Credence opened for him lest the heavy wood doors hurt his little fingers. Oliver’s clothes were all hung high, so Credence pulled them down for him to look at.

Grinning, Oliver chose his favourite casual outfit, a beige suit and a blue shirt with a black ribbon ties around the collar. He put it on while Credence waited patiently in a chair at the edge of the bed. Once Oliver was dressed, Credence helped tie his shoes and ushered him to the door.

“So you’re Credence. Just Credence?” Oliver asked as they made their way down the corridor to breakfast.

Credence nodded. “Yes, young master. Just Credence.”

Oliver giggled.

“Can you call me just Oliver then?” he asked with a little grin.

“If you’d like me to.”

“I would.”

“Then ‘Just Oliver’ it shall be,” Credence replied in a way that made his little charge burst into a new fit of giggles.

“Are we friends?” Oliver asked. “I know you’re my tutor, but I’d also like us to be friends.”

Charmed by this delightful child, Credence couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d like that too, Oliver.”

As they reached the stairs, Oliver clutched the railing with one hand and held the other out.

Credence took the little hand gently in his and held it as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Oliver didn’t let go, guiding his new friend to the dinning room and into the seat next to his.

Oliver wanted to talk about everything, and Credence enjoyed answering his childish questions. To a five year old, he was an absolute genius.

This was going to be easier than he’d thought.

•:۞:•

Formal teaching was where things became tricky. The first thing Credence discovered was the total lack of supplies or educational decoration in the library and study hall.

It didn’t help that Oliver wasn’t sure what tutoring would entail, since he’d never been properly tutored. Credence didn’t either. So, slowly, the two of them worked it out between them over the course of that first afternoon.

“What do you know?”

“I know lots of things!” Oliver announced confidently.

Credence chuckled. Cheerful, but completely unhelpful.

“No, I mean what have you learned. Do you know your letters and numbers?”

Oliver shook his head, but he wasn’t embarrassed by this.

“Miss Lestrange wasn’t really a teacher. She sort of taught me how to play piano, but only one song. But daddy says I’m five now and I should learn more songs and have a proper tutor.”

“Daddy knows best,” Credence agreed with a nod. “I’m not very good, but I’ll teach you more songs on the piano and we’ll start your letters from the beginning.”

And so they did. Credence spent the day in the study hall attached to the library, working on the alphabet, teaching Oliver the shapes of different letters and the sounds they’d make.

Oliver was a fast learner and easy to teach. He was specifically responsive to challenges.

“If you recite the alphabet, we can play a game at the end of class!”

“Okay!”

“If you can remember which letter makes what sound, I’ll read you a story before bed.”

“I can do it!”

And so, everyday at the end of class, they would play a game, outside if the weather was nice enough, and after their dinner together, Credence would help Oliver learn to play piano in the drawing room before taking him up to bed for a story.

It was all so perfectly domestic.

•:۞:•

Tina couldn’t have been more thrilled.

After putting Oliver to bed, Credence had reported on the days success before going up to his room to unpack. Tina couldn’t have been happier to hear that the two of them were getting along swimmingly. She sent him off to take a well needed rest before rushing down to the kitchen to fetch him a well deserved midnight snack.

“Everything is working out so well with Credence!” she gushed as she entered the staff dining room. “Mr. Graves isn’t even going to know what to think when he returns home!”

“Oh? I haven’t even met the kid yet!” Jacob joked. Of course he hadn’t. Credence was taking all of his meals with Oliver and it was unheard of for the chef to enter the main household, unless his presence was specifically requested by the master of the house.

“I haven’t either,” Queenie told him with a little giggle. “Not since he moved in anyways.”

“Well, he’s being kept very busy, that I can assure you,” Tina said to the two of them. “He and Oliver are the best of friends and I already heard Oliver sounding out his letters. He’ll be reading before you know it!”

“Oh, how sweet!” Queenie cheered, clapping her hands together. “Please, let me bring them tea instead of Miss Miss Berly tomorrow! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Tina looked at her sister narrowly. They had yet to discuss her taking the liberty of talking to their Lord Graves about Credence in the first place.

Still, since everything had worked out in the end, maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey, I think that’s a swell idea,” Jacob added, in his typical American style that left Queenie swooning. “I’ll make some special buns to go along with it. You can tell them they were from me.”

Tina shook her head at the couple’s antics. However, as they plotted and giggled, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos get a cuppa with Jacobs best baked buns.  
> Your comments give Credence a goodnights rest in his plush new bed (so he can wake up energized to meet a certain someone in the next chapter) 
> 
> ;)


	3. His Lordship Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence misplaces his charge and the elder Master Graves returns to Woolworth Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've made a ['Woolworth Manor' themed playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/11165656273/playlist/3TOLQzIBm6UEcHPYgGcnzI) on spotify that I'll be updating randomly with Victorian/1800 AU reference music if anyone is interested in listening. 
> 
> Okay... you've all been so patient AND WONDERFUL! I just want to say another thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! You've all been so lovely and your words (so cliché) but they totally warm my heart <3 
> 
> Anyway... on with the show~!

•:۞:•

Credence had only been teaching for a week when the unthinkable happened.

He completely misplaced Oliver.

It was a weary Monday morning and they’d just started working on writing. Credence had marked out the entire alphabet on a page in dashed lines and asked Oliver to draw over his lines then copy each letter ten times beside the original.

The boy got to work diligently. Holding his pencil in a tiny fist, he pursed his lips in concentration as he carefully drew his ABC shapes.

Credence smiled at the adorable faces Oliver was pulling with each new letter. After a few minutes, he quietly stepped out of the room to see about getting the boy a glass of milk from the kitchens. He was only gone for a moment, but when he returned, Oliver was nowhere to be found.

Too embarrassed to alert the rest of the staff by calling out for him, Credence snuck around scavenging every corner of the house looking for the child. He did not check was the study since it was locked, however he did peak inside the master bedroom, a room only to be entered with express permission from Lord Graves.

His wide black eyes scanned the lavish furnishings, the huge four-poster bed and the velvet curtains that blocked all light from entering the room. His gaze lingered in awe for the briefest of moments before he closed the door.

Credence bit his lip and looked up and down the halls. Once certain that he hadn’t been seen, he continued his search.

God! Where was that boy?

About ten minutes into his search, Credence passed Queenie who was dusting the chandelier in the front hall. Despite her obvious position in the center of the room, he tried to pretend he didn’t see her.

But she saw him and called out to him cheerily.

“Good Afternoon, Credence! Are you looking for young master Oliver?”

“No! Yes! Sort of!” Credence stammered. “No need to worry!” he continued with feigned laughter, walking quickly away from the maid.

Queenie tittered a little as she went back to dusting.

“Well, good luck finding him!” she said with a little smile. From the very little Credence knew of her so far, he knew that smile meant she was staring right through him.

“We’re just playing! He’s not lost! Definitely not lost!” Credence lied.

He rushed out of the hall and into the back sitting room where tall glass doors opened out to the expansive country field and Dutch gardens.

Credence just needed some fresh air. Yes. It would help to clear his head before he continued his search.

However, as soon as he stepped outside the shrill giggling sound of Oliver’s voice immediately drew his attention. Perking up like a fox hound, he marched out through the garden and across the field to the stables.

Credence paused in the shadow of an archway. He could already see Oliver was fine, smiling as bright as ever. There was a red headed man with him, someone Credence had yet to meet. He was tall and slender, carrying himself awkwardly in a way that sorely reminded Credence of his younger years.

“Newt! Newt!” Oliver cheered as the stable master lifted him into his arms.                 

“Hello, young master Graves!” The man said, his tanned and freckled face split into a broad grin. “How are you? Come to see Niffler?”

Oliver nodded, sending his fluffy black hair everywhere.

Credence observed from a distance, watching the stable master carry his young charge into the barn. He followed after them, silent as a shadow.

Inside behind a small gate there was a rather fuzzy, black highland calf. It snuffled and snorted at the gate, overly happy to see his little friend.

Credence almost let out a laugh when Oliver reach out to gently pat the fluffy little cow. The little boy’s pale fingers all but disappeared into the animal’s dark fur.

“Now pet him gently, remember,” Newt said as he held Oliver over the wooden railing that was keeping the rambunctious calf from running off.

Credence leaned against the barn door, smiling as he watched.

Newt seemed like such a charming young man. As he walked with Oliver in his arms, he stepped with a limp obtained after being kicking in the leg by one of the stallions he tended so gently. Other men, perhaps, would have avoided the beasts that had dealt them such a blow, but not Newt.

Still, despite his apparent kind-heartedness the stable master was obviously a bit of distraction... and if the rumours were true, well, Credence wasn’t really sure what to think of him.

“Young master Graves,” Credence spoke firmly, calling the boy by his title in an effort to draw his attention from the cow and back to the fact that he had run off without a word.

Newt turned, a flash of curiosity in his wide, pale eyes. He hummed when he noticed the stern look on Credence’s face, glancing back and forth between this unfamiliar young man and the boy in his arms with comical confusion lacing his features.

“Credence!” Oliver gasped, looking horrified. “I’m so sorry!” he cried.

Hoping out of Newt’s arms, Oliver ran back to Credence and stood before him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I forgot to tell you. I sometimes visit Mr. Scamander. Miss Lestrange never cared if I ran off, but you care and I forgot,” he said, head hanging low.

Credence patted the boy’s head. “That’s alright, Oliver, you aren’t in any trouble. Just try to remember for next time,” he reproached the boy gently, amused by the way Oliver nodded with his head pressed to Credence’s thigh.

Credence continued stroking his hair, assuring him that he was not that upset. He looked up at the stable master, who stood watching almost deadpan as Oliver clung to Credence’s trousers.

It was as if he was worried about being in trouble as well.

“Ah, Mr. Scamander, I presume?”

The man blinked, coming out of his daze. “Yes. Newt Scamander. At your service. You must be Credence, the new tutor. Tina’s mentioned you... quite a lot,” The stable master said, tilting head in a way that sent his unkempt red hair into his eyes. He seemed almost shy now, a complete change to how comfortable he was with Oliver and the livestock.

“Sorry for keeping him, he likes to come see how little Niffler’s doing.”

Credence smiled at the man, happy that he cared to indulge Oliver even though it was in no way part of his job as stable master.

“No bother, really,” Credence replied. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping him out of harm’s way. I was too embarrassed to tell Tina and I don’t know what the elder master Graves would have done to me were he here. If he found out that I let his heir out of my sight–”

“Lord Graves?” Newt interrupted, seeming utterly confused. He laughed a moment later, an attractive thing that lit up his entire face. “Ah, I forget you haven’t had the chance to meet Mr. Graves yet. No, his Lordship would never fault you for doing something he’s done a thousand times over.”

Shaking his head, Newt picked up his tools and went back to tending the horses, smiling to himself as he did.

“I’m sure when he returns he will be delighted to see Oliver so full of joy.”

Credence frowned at that. “Was he not so himself with his last governess?”

“He was not, sadly, no.” Newt sighed.

There was a tense air about him at the mention of Miss Lestrange. It was hard for Credence to imagine what Tina had said about the stable master and the last governess. Perhaps she was exaggerating? Then again, the governess had been asked to leave while the stable master was still here.

How was it that this scandal only affected one side of the party?

As if to distract Credence from his thoughts, Newt smiled; though this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He then crouched down to where Oliver was still clinging to Credence’s leg, red-eyed but most certainly not crying.

“You should get back to your lessons, young master. And make sure to ask next time you come see me. I’ll send you right back inside otherwise,” he said, earning a vigorous nod from the boy. He nodded in return and stood. “It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Credence. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Yes. Of course. Come, Oliver.” Credence took the boy’s hand in his and walked them out of the barn, turning back only once to say: “Thank you again, Mr. Scamander.”

The stable master waved it off. “Newt, please.”

Credence bit his lip.

“Newt.”

•:۞:•

The weeks passed ever so peacefully after that. Time just seemed to breezed by at Woolworth like a gentle summer’s wind.

On the last Friday of the month, the rattling of a carriage up the gravel drive heralded Mr. Graves early return home. He stepped from his carriage, breathing a sigh of relief before walking up to the house.

As he relinquished his coat and hat to Abernathy in the front hall, Mr. Graves couldn’t help but noticed the quiet. He was expecting his arrival to be met with tiny pattering footsteps and weeping delight. Oliver was always overwhelmed with joy seeing having his father returned home.

However, on this day, no such greeting was offered.

No lunging hugs. No teary ‘I missed you’s.

Mr. Graves looked down the corridors, but his son was nowhere to be seen.

“Welcome home, my Lord,” Tina said with her hands folded serenely in her lap.

This afternoon was just full of surprises.

“Thank you, Miss Goldstein,” Mr. Graves replied with a slow nod. His eyes wondered the hall. He half expected someone was playing a trick on him.

“Where is my son?”

“Oh! He’s still in his lessons with Credence, my Lord.”

“Ah, the new tutor. Of course,” Graves replied wearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Now he just felt ridiculous for having forgotten, but then again it had been a gruelling month. Working with Lord Grindelwald always was. Still, it was hard for Mr. Graves to remain miserable by his own wearisome month when Tina looked positively elated. In the past, she would have marched up to him and immediately asked for time off after a month of schedule upsets and partially caring for the young master while his governess frittered her time away.

“How did you and the rest fare with the new arrangements?” Graves asked with a raised brow. Perhaps the stress had just pushed Tina so far that her only way of coping was with a jarringly bright grin?

But no. She replied honest and eager.

“Everything has been positively excellent, my Lord. I cannot wait for you to meet Credence. Truly, he has been a gift to this household.”

Mr. Graves let out a soft “huh”, vaguely impressed.

“Where can I find him?” he asked.

“With the young master in the study off the library, though they’ll be down for supper soon. I’m sure Oliver will want to take his meal with you since–” Tina stopped with a hum and a blush upon realizing she’d already lost Mr. Graves attention.

Without staying to hear another word, he had turned to make his way upstairs.

It was so strange to Mr. Graves, the house was so orderly. His staff passed him in on the stairs, their faces calm. They nodded and murmured their ‘welcome home’s’ just as Tina’s had done. No one rushed him with tales of scandal or some broken heirloom or a curtain that had caught fire and burned down an entire shelf of books.

He could scarcely believe he was in the correct house.

When Mr. Graves finally arrived in the library, he passed through to the study. The room was brightly lit by a line of open windows and a cool breeze filled what was usually the stuffiest part of the house.

Oliver was there as his specially-made, child-sized desk. He was working furiously, utterly focused on whatever he was copying out onto a piece of paper. He didn’t even notice his father enter the room.

Mr. Graves had never seen his son so completely devoted to any task his last governess had given him. Immediately, he looked about for the miracle worker who’d this brought on, but was first greeted with the sight of the house steward’s back.

Mr. Graves didn’t see the man all that often; Mr. Bingley lived in town and only entered the estate during the day to discuss financial matters with the upper staff. He now stood facing the short edge of a desk, talking to a young man who had to be the most bewitching creature Graves had ever laid eye on.

He was so taken aback, that he found himself unconsciously taking in a sharp breath.

The new tutor sat at a desk, jotting down a list of items which he then handed over to the hovering Mr. Bingley. His waving, black hair tumbled gracefully into his dark eyes and over high cheekbones. A pair of reading glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose as those captivating eyes of his scanned the papers before him, ensuring that everything he’d written was accurate.

So this was Tina’s Credence.

He was a most singular young man. Mr. Graves found himself spellbound, enthralled by whatever magic this young man seemed to be charmed with.

“I was surprised by your need for these materials.” Mr. Bingley’s grating voice brought Graves back to his senses. “No supplies were ever requested by the previous governess.”

“Well, I am no governess and I can assure you they’re all items necessary for Oliver’s development.”

“Oh, of course, of course!” the steward brushed his comments aside. “That was more a judgement on her aptitude than yours, my good man. I’ll review the items, but I’m sure there won’t be an issue.”

“No. There won’t.”

Both Credence and Mr. Bingley turned at the sound of Lord Graves’ calm, but rigid voice.

“Daddy!”

In a flash, Oliver was on his feet, nearly knocking over his chair as he sprinted the short distance into his father’s arms.

“Hello, my Ollie!” Any stern looks he had for the steward immediately faced from his features as Mr. Graves lifted his son into his arms. Instead, a grin spreading across his entire face, wrinkling his eyes handsomely.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always!” Oliver said, his arms wrapped tight around his father’s neck.

“Really?” Mr. Graves craned his neck to catch Oliver’s eye, but his son’s face remained buried in his shoulder. “I’m surprised you weren’t waiting by the door, is all.”

Oliver leaned back, pouting at that.

“Well, you’re early!” he protested.

“And you’re usually in tears as soon as you see me.” Graves pulled back to look into his son’s eyes with teasing firmness. “Tell the truth, did you not miss me so much this month?”

Oliver’s nose scrunched up at the mention of his crying. He looked back over his shoulder towards Credence who removed his spectacles as he stood slowly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he realized who exactly had just entered the room.

“I never cried,” Oliver muttered, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. He buried it back into the crook of his father’s neck, but couldn’t hide the blush; he was so pale it spread in splotches up the back of his neck.

Mr. Graves had to bite back a laugh.

Who was he trying to impress?

“Ah! Mr. Graves, sir, you’ve not yet met the new tutor, have you?” Mr. Bingley said. “The sudden hiring was a bit unorthodox, but I must say he has been marked improvement to Oliver’s last gov– ah– minder.”

Credence smiled shyly at the compliment.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Graves replied passively. “That will be all for today. Please see about those supplies.”

“Of course, your Lordship.”

As Mr. Bingley nodded and said his goodbyes, Credence felt a rush of nervousness flood his body. He stared at Mr. Graves holding the man’s intense gaze, unable to look away. It was as though the man’s dark eyes pieced him to his core, pinning him in place.

“It’s a pleasure, my Lord,” he breathed.

He was shaking. He didn’t know why, but he was shaking just from the sight of this man.

Credence wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he most certainly wasn’t expecting the older man to be as formidably handsome, then again, to have a child as beautiful as Oliver it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. And he definitely wasn’t expecting his chest to grow warm at the sound of Mr. Graves voice.

No man had ever made Credence feel this way before.

“Credence, was it?” Mr. Graves uttered his name like he’s testing the syllables on his tongue.

Oh, that voice. It was a sound Credence could bath in.

“A peculiar name, I know,” he replied, his nerves getting a hold of his vocal chords, taking him on a defensive tirade. “I– well, all the orphans were given our Christian names by Sister Mary Lou. She was fond of naming children after traits she hopes they inherit. Chastity, Modesty... Credence.”

Mr. Graves stared at him for a moment and then a slow smile lifted the corners of his lips. He chuckled, a throaty sound that made Credence’s heart beat a little faster.

“Peculiar is not the word I would have use. It’s charming. And the pleasure is all mine,” Mr. Graves replied, implying something with his tone that was vague enough to go unnoticed, but it still caused a little heat to rise in Credence’s cheeks.

Turning his attention back to Oliver, Mr. Graves went back to bouncing the boy in his arms.

“How have your lessons been going with Mr...?”

“Just Credence,” Oliver replied with a stern look so much like his father’s. “He doesn’t have a family name to use.”

Mr. Graves smirked at his son. “Ah, just Credence. Of course. How foolish of me.”

Credence wanted to die in that moment, or at least run and hide himself away. He was mortified to hear Oliver correcting his father so self-righteously. The boy was usually such a sweetheart, but Credence worried any rudeness reflected poorly on his tutorage.

“Yes. Credence is the best teacher,” Oliver gushed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and something that, despite his absence, his father should already have known. “I know all my letters now and I can spell words and I can play three whole new songs on the piano!”

“Is that so!” Graves smiled, and turned back to his son’s blushing young tutor on the other side of the room.

“Very impressive. You’ll have to play for me when there’s time. For now, I am ravenous from my ride!” Mr. Graves bounced his son particularly high, causing a spluttering of giggles to burst from him.

“Can Credence come and eat with us still?” Oliver asked once he’d calmed. He was quick to hop out of his father’s arms.

Mr. Graves raised a brow. He watched Oliver skip over and take hold of Credence’s hand, ready to guide his tutor to his place at the table as usual. Again, he was surprised that Oliver still wanted his tutor’s presence at the family table... this was all very new.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“You know, Credence may want to take dinner with his friends in the staff quarters,” Mr. Graves suggested, frowning at Credence who was just as hesitant about the whole situation as he was.

“But I’m Credence’s friend!” Oliver looked up at Credence to confirm with a sad pout in place.

Credence tightened his hold on the little hand clasped in his. “Of course you are, Oliver,” he replied, trying to speak only loud enough for the boy to hear. He wasn’t sure how his Lordship would react to the familiarity they shared, but Mr. Graves simply huffed out a laugh as he relented.

“Alright, then.”

•:۞:•

Theirs was a tense first meeting. All convention was thrown inexorably into the wind on a child’s whims.

Credence sat in his usual place at the table next to Oliver. With a clenched jaw he listening to the boy go over every single event of the last month. It was shocking all the things the boy could remember.

Credence was left speechless with a blush coating his cheeks as the boy gushed about how wonderful the month had been. He hardly even had a chance to speak with Mr. Graves, but the man was staring at him with dark and curious eyes.

The boy rambled on giddily until dinner came to an end. All the while, his father listened, responding appropriately to Oliver’s stories.

“Well, Credence,” Mr. Graves announced when Oliver finally took a break to sip his milk. “Perhaps, we should say goodnight for now. I’ll put Oliver to bed and–”

“You can’t!” Oliver cried, surprising Mr. Graves and Credence both. “Credence has to read me a story! I finished all of my letters this afternoon, so he has to! He promised.”

“Ah.” Again, Mr. Graves was noticeably bewildered by Oliver’s firm dissent.

Credence choked back a gasp, horrified, knowing that he was technically the cause of Oliver’s tiny rebellion against his father.

“My Lord, I am so–“

“No, no,” Mr. Graves waved a hand through the air. It was clear to him that the new schedule Oliver had established with Credence would not be easily disrupted.

“If you promised you’d read Ollie a story, you must. It’s only fair.” Mr. Graves simply stood from his seat. “I’ll be in my study. Do come find me later, Credence.”

Oliver squealed happily and ran up to his father, clutching his waist in a brief hug. He then turned back to clutch Credence by the hand, leading his tutor up to his room.

Credence tried to pretend that everything was normal, but he couldn’t keep his mind of what ‘later’ would entail.

Was he going to be scolded?

Looking back at Mr. Graves as they left, he noticed a strange, but soft smile on the older man’s face.

Perhaps? Perhaps not?

The man was an enigma, one that Credence wanted to puzzle over for hours.

•:۞:•

Time seemed to fly by meaning that ‘later’ came much sooner than Credence would have liked.

The excitement of the day’s events must have hit Oliver harder than the boy’d realized earlier in the evening because after getting him dressed and ready for bed, he was fast asleep in less than an hour. Credence had barely read him a page of the novel they were working through when Oliver’s eye blinked closed, dark lashes falling long over his cheeks as he slept.

Credence set the book down on the nightstand and took a deep breath before getting up to exit the room. He stood in the hall for a long while, slow to walk down the seemingly massive corridor towards the stairs. Before long he was standing outside the heavy oak door that led into Mr. Graves’ private study.

Credence swallowed heavily. He’d never been inside Mr. Graves study before. The rest of the staff treated it like some sort of forbidden place.

Still, his presence had been requested.

And so, Credence knocked.

•:۞:•

After dinner, Mr. Graves went to his study to look over what he’d missed from the months household affairs. Usually he’d have to wait until morning, or work through the night after putting Oliver to bed. But not this day.

Mr. Graves placed the last of Mr. Bingley’s household finance reports down and rubbed his temples.

Credence.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on him, Mr. Graves couldn’t stop thinking about the new tutor. How lovely he was. How good he seemed to be with Oliver.

Since his mother had sadly passed while giving birth to him, Oliver never had the chance to experience what it was like to be the centre of someone’s world. Mr. Graves tried, but it was hard, nigh impossible. Running the estate, his peerage, his son: these duties all blurred into one when he was worked to exhaustion.

It was unfair on Oliver, but Mr. Graves was unwilling to suffer incompetent staff or remarry or court simply for his son’s sake.

No. He missed his wife, having a wife, but they’d been just fine... until now. Now, if the evening’s events were anything to go by, the household was slowly floating above a point where the satisfactory ‘fine’ turned into a kind of domestic bliss.

Mr. Graves didn’t yet know the young man very well, but Credence seemed to treat Oliver with so much caring, like the boy was his entire world.

He was a godsend. An angel.

And yet, Mr. Graves felt a deeper stirring within himself. Something far from the divine.

A knock came at the door, interrupting his musings.

“Enter.”

The door slowly creaked open and Graves looked up.

Credence stood in the threshold, his dark, slim form haloed by the hallway light. He was hesitant to move forward any further.

“My Lord, the young master has gone to bed now,” he said softly.

“Didn’t even need me to tuck him in,” Graves chuckled, mostly to himself. He leaned back in his chair and waved Credence into the room. He let his gave travel the line of the young man’s body shamelessly. In the dim light it went unnoticed.

“Come. Sit,” he said. “This isn’t an interview, I feel you have worked your way beyond that now.”

Credence walked into the lavish office, trying to keep his eyes on the master of the house rather than the elaborately ornamented walls or the heavily stocked bookshelves. He stepped across the fine Persian rug and came to a plush, upholstered chair.

“I just wanted to thank you for coming to us on such short notice,” Mr. Graves said, resting his chin on his folded hands as he stared across his desk, his eyes not even for a moment leaving Credence’s, even when the young man broke often his gaze out of sheer embarrassment.

“It was no trouble. In fact, I’m very glad to be here, my Lord.” Though withdrawn, the sincerity that laced Credence’s voice came from the depths of his heart. “I’ve had a wonderful time with Oliver, living in this house... it’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Mr. Graves hummed softly.

“That’s good to hear, Credence. I like to provide comfort for my staff.”

The lord stood then and slowly walked around his desk. Standing before credence, he leaned back against the edge of it and stared down at the much younger man, he let his eyes grow soft. The boy must have been half his age. With his seniority in that respect as well as the reality of Credence’s engagement in the household as an a member of the staff, it would be difficult for them to get to know one another informally...

...and Mr. Graves wanted no boundaries between them tonight.

“If it’s agreeable to you, in lieu of an interview, I should like us to spend the evening together.”

Credence was suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of desire that flooded his chest, tight and hot. His head bowed, for he could not stare into Mr. Graves’ handsome, but devouring gaze any longer. Instead, he looked down at his hands where they were folded in his lap, squeezing each other until the knuckles turned white.

“I would like that very much, my Lord,” Credence whispered after a shuddering breath.

“Do you play cards?”

“Ah, the nuns never allowed such things.”

Of course, he’d been raised in an orphan asylum. Mr. Graves would have to remember to remind himself of Credence’s staunch upbringing in future.

“And at school?”

Credence shrugged and shook his head.

“I’ve never been much of a gambler. I was focused on my studies.”

“Shame,” Mr. Graves hummed, but still he made for a low table sat between two plush chairs on the other side of the room. He snatched up a deck of cards laying upon it and started sliding them over each other with practiced ease.

“No bets then, but I’ll teach you to play. Would you pour the brandy while I shuffle the deck?”

Confused and feeling a bit turned around, Credence looked around the room for the decanter and glasses. The fine crystal glass wear was easy to spot, and amber liquid sparkled within. It was all prepared for Mr. Graves, laid out by one of the staff on an tall stand near the bookshelves.

“Thank you, Credence,” Mr. Graves said absently as he brought over two glasses of the strong liquor.

Credence set them down and nervously took up the seat across from Mr. Graves. He watched as the older man took a sip of his drink. Dark eyes were steady on him and he found himself taking a large gulp of his own.

Credence made a face as he swallowed, causing Mr. Graves to smile.

“Alright,” he chuckled, setting his glass aside. “The rules are fairly simply...”

As Mr. Graves spoke, explaining the game, Credence felt himself relaxing, the hunch of his back straightening out as he sat up and leaned forward to watch the man’s hands move over the cards. He cut in to ask questions and was always greeted with a smile and an easy response.

They’d both finished their first glass of brandy by the time Mr. Graves finished explaining the rules, so Credence stood to fetch the decanter, bringing it over to the cards table. When they finally started playing, the talk of cards and rules turned to lighter things. Amicable conversation flowed as easy as the liquor they were sharing.

It was nearly midnight when Credence slammed his cards down on the table, blushing furiously. He'd lost every round and his mind was a buzz from the alcohol.

As he shuffled the cards for the next game, Mr. Graves gazed at him with a curiously raised brow.

“You look flush, Credence,” he said, his voice a bit rough from the drink though he wasn’t nearly as affected.

Credence nearly choked on the last of his brandy. “Yes. I don't– never drink. I've never drank. Nothing like this anyway.”

Mr. Graves huffed out a laugh as he reshuffled the cards. “Charming.”

Credence was more and more a blundering mess throughout each round, but that only endeared him further to Graves.

Still, it was getting late and they did eventually have to part for the night.

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Mr. Graves stated as he tapped the stacked cards to put them away. “We’ll have breakfast served at a later time in the morning.”

Credence nodded more vigorously than he would have were his body not so loose with drink.

“I’ve been letting Oliver play in the garden if the weather allows it,” he replied.

“Of course,” Mr. Graves said with a knowing smile. “You’ll need your strength then. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Yes. I should– I’ll just–“

The brandy must have gone to his head because Credence found himself stumbling as soon as he stood. A pleasantly numb rush washed over him. He smiled at the heady sensation, finally understanding why men were driven to drink.

“Are you alright, Credence?”

Credence opened his hooded eyes and gazed up at his Lord. He was caught up in the man’s strong arms, like a maid who’d fainted, brought to short breaths by the tightness of her corset.

“Oh, I’m a lush,” Credence breathed, as he absently clutched at the front of Mr. Graves shirt. The older man’s cravat had been lost somewhere over the course of their evening sitting by the fire, leaving his shirt open slightly in the front.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves.” Credence whispered, his gaze never leaving the line of the man’s neck. “I shan’t drink again, I swear it.”

“Oh, but you mustn’t swear that,” Mr. Graves’ chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he helped Credence to stand upright once more. He held the younger man against him, afraid he might topple back at any moment.

“Let me take you to bed,” he said in a voice that was unintentionally laced with salacious purpose.

Credence almost gasped at the innuendo until...

No. Mr. Graves was a Lord, and a decent, upstanding gentleman. He couldn’t be implying...

With a furious blush in place, Credence slid from Mr. Graves’ arms. He stumbled back a step, putting himself a safe distance away from the seductive aura that surrounded his Lord.

With his head bowed shyly, Credence whispered, “I’ll be alright. Goodnight, Mr. Graves,” before turning to make a beeline for the door.

Uttering a quiet ‘Goodnight’ of his own. Mr. Graves watched Credence hastily exit his study. Once the door was securely shut behind him, Graves cleared his throat and adjusted the front of his trousers.

He sat down, pouring himself another drink as he stared absently across the cards table at Credence’s now vacant chair.

Without question, Tina would be getting a raise.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos give Tina that well deserved raise.  
> Your comments stumble drunkenly into the wrong bedroom (is it wrong though) ;)
> 
> Just a note: If you want to know when updates come in your email, hit subscribe! I only recently discovered this feature on AO3 and OMG GODSEND. I also make a post about updates on [my tumblr](http://itsanidiom.tumblr.com/tagged/myfics), so you can follow there too. :D


	4. Communion Received On The Tongue and While Kneeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely weekend, an afternoon spent in the garden and a visit to the local church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut yet so don’t look at this chapter title like that! This title is pure! It’s LITERALLY from the [Vatican website](http://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/details/ns_lit_doc_20091117_comunione_en.html). XD SPOILER?? > I found it while doing research for the church scene coming up... because I’ve only attended mass once in my life...

•:۞:•

The next day, after Oliver’s insistence, Credence joined the Graves family for breakfast. It was a beautiful Saturday, so as soon as the meal came to an end, they moved from the dinning room out into the garden. They spent the afternoon there, enjoying the sun as it swept across the manor’s lavish grounds.

Credence smiled bright from his seat on the veranda as he watched Mr. Graves play with his son, chasing the child out across the arching outer corridors, between flowerbeds and manicured hedges. It was charming to see a dignified man like Graves, so governed in his ways, let himself be free as a lion playing with his cub.

Oliver was wearing his playing clothes, a white outfit that could be thoroughly bleached of stains, while the elder master Graves had stripped down to his vest and trousers, leaving his coat folded on the chair next to Credence.

Biting his lip, Credence found his gaze lingering more often on Mr. Graves then the child he was meant to be minding.

With his suspenders thrown off his shoulders and dangling along his hips, Mr. Graves looked more like a strapping farmer than the lord of a stately home.

He gave a chesty roar as he lifted Oliver into his arms carrying the giggling boy back up the steps to join Credence in the seating area.

“Credence, the young master Graves would like to request that you join us for tea.” Mr. Graves said in a playful tone, speaking as if acting as his shy son’s valet. Oliver was so talkative in lessons, but as soon as they finished he sometimes looked upon Credence with a delightful awe and reverence that Credence really didn’t feel he deserved.

His pursed lips hiding a smile, Credence played along.

“I would be most honoured join you for tea,” he replied with an effected air of formality. “Thank you for your gracious invitation, young master Graves.”

Oliver burst into a fit of giggles that had Mr. Graves shaking his head, holding back a grin of his own.

Bouncing the boy in his arms, he asked: “What do we say after ‘thank you’s, Ollie?”

“You’re welcome!” Oliver let out a delighted noise. He wriggled out of his father’s arms and ran off inside.

“I’ll get dressed for tea!”

“Oliver! Your shoes, you haven’t–“ Credence stood to stop him, but it was too late. A trail of dirt marked the polished floors behind the lad as he ran up to his room.

Credence groaned.

“Tina might just kill me.”

“I wouldn’t allow it,” Mr. Graves replied with a little a smile and sideways glance towards Credence. He turned away with a chuckle when he saw a blush again creeping up the younger man’s neck.

“Not a care in the world at that age,” he said, fondly watching his son disappear up the stairs. He shook his head and moved to put his arms back into the loops of his suspenders.

Credence turned to him then, a nervous smile tilting the corners of his lips and rounding his flushed cheeks. He looked up at Mr. Graves, noticing the way his hair had fallen out of the slicked-back style he kept it in. Stray black hairs hung wild across his brow. Undressed and unkempt, the man looked positively roguish.

Without thinking, Credence reached up and replaced the loose strands, carding his fingers through the man’s greying hair. It was something he was so used to doing for Oliver over the past month, tending to him, fixing his appearance when he came inside from playing. Such tender actions had become second nature to him.

He couldn’t resist letting his fingers linger for a moment, lost in thought as he moved the hair back away Mr. Graves’ handsome face.

He was no child, but perhaps he too had needs that could use tending.

“Credence...”            

Mr. Graves’ voice was a rumble that left Credence gasping. He pulled his hand away, but Mr. Graves caught his wrist and held it gently between them.

They were standing so close. Credence could feel a torrid heat radiating between them. It struck a tightness in his core and left his heart pounding in his chest.

“My Lord, should we serve tea in the parlour today or... oh! Good afternoon, Credence! I though you’d taken the day off.” Queenie came around the threshold her smile only dropping slightly in her surprise. It reappeared with full force brightness as she delighted in speculating what exactly it was she’d just stumbled upon.

Credence immediately snatched his hand away. Holding it to his chest, he clutched his wrist as if it had been burned.

Mr. Graves took a step back from the young man and cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Queenie,” he said. “The weather’s lovely; I think we’ll take tea in the conservatory.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves.” Queenie was still smiling when she curtseyed. As she sashayed away, she shot Credence a knowing look.

If he didn’t know any better, he would suspect that the woman could read minds.

•:۞:•

Credence spent the rest of the day overthinking that afternoon’s events.

He hovered near Oliver in the parlour, drawing the boys attention to keep them both distracted as best as he could. He knew it was wrong to be avoiding the elder master Graves, using his son as a shield, but he couldn’t trust himself around that man.

Credence know his mind was filled with the most lecherous of thoughts. Doubtless, Mr. Graves would be appalled to know of it, but there was something carnal drawing Credence to him.

It was desire, something that left Credence voracious, starved and hungering for something much sweeter than the cakes they had with tea. The sweetest honey, unbearable in its deliciousness. From the moment they laid eyes on each other, he’d felt it rousing inside, low in his belly.

Filthy. That’s what Sister Mary Lou would have called him. Such wicked delights were to be shunned lest they lead to temptation.

It was a great relief when a currier arrived.

Mr. Graves received a report from London and had to retreat to his study to read it over. Excusing himself, he stood from his seat at the far end of the parlour where he’d been listening attentively to Credence give Oliver his music lessons.

Oliver was still distractedly plodding away at the keys as his father got up to leave, but from his place on the piano bench next to the boy, Credence turned to watch Mr. Graves depart.

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth until the stalwart shape of the man’s frame disappeared into the hall. Turning back to the piano, he let out a shaky breath.

Perhaps he would go to confession on Sunday.

•:۞:•

It was getting dark by the time Mr. Graves left his study. He stepped into the hall and rubbed his eyes, tired from reading in the dim light.

Crossing the corridor, he made his way straight to Oliver’s door wanting to say his goodnights before the boy fell asleep. However, with one hand on the handle, he stopped.

He could just barely make out the sound of his son’s voice inside. Oliver was talking at a slow sleepy pace, asking someone a question.

Opening the door silently, Mr. Graves peered into the room.

Credence was there, lying atop the sheets next to Oliver with a book in his lap. He had tucked the boy in and was reading him a bedtime story: some old folktale about wizards and magic.

Mr. Graves leaned against the door’s frame, watching the two of them. He felt warmth spread through his chest, a kind of warmth he couldn’t ever remember feeling before.

Then Credence looked up at him with soft black eyes. It was like throwing oil on a flame.

“Look, Oliver, Daddy’s here to say goodnight,” Credence whispered to his little half-asleep boy.

Oliver’s drooping eyes snapped wide open and he sat up reaching out for his father. For whatever reason, he’s eyes started to tear up. He was either feeling guilty for falling asleep before seeing his father or so tired that his childishly overactive emotions were running wild.

Smiling, Mr. Graves approached the bed. He took up a seat on the mattress next to Credence’s thighs and placed one hand on the bed between the tutor and his charge, effectively framing Credence’s hips as he leaned over to place a soft kiss on Oliver’s forehead.

“I thought you’d already be asleep by now,” Mr. Graves whispered into his hair as tiny arms wrapped around his neck.

“I know.” Oliver only let go to fiddle nervously with his blanket. “But can Credence finish reading to me?”

“I suppose,” Graves sighed dramatically, causing his son to giggle. “Though you'd best be getting to sleep soon. We have church in the morning.”

“Can Credence join us at church?”

Graves cast a slight glance over his shoulder at Credence, who made the briefest of eye contact with him before looking away.

Of course it had been Credence’s duty to take the young master to church while Lord Graves was away in London, but now that the master had returned it would be unseemly for a hired tutor to turn up at any a family affair. Like with meals, it was more than a bit unusual for the staff to join the family.

“I like sitting with Credence,” Oliver explained, biting his lip: a little habit he seemed to have picked up since Credence’s arrival. “He explains all the words and things during mass when I don't understand.”

Ever the doting father, Mr. Graves smiled at his son’s suggestion and pressed another kiss to the boy’s temple.

“Of course, Credence will join us.”

Oliver gasped out a series of happy ‘thank you’s as he hugged his father tight.

Credence looked up at that. He couldn’t help but mirror the smile his Lord was shining on him over the boy’s shoulder.

•:۞:•

After Mr. Graves left them, Credence finished Oliver’s favourite story and closed the book. He too pressed a kiss to the boy’s crown, something that Oliver had asked for about a week after Credence started. It was a gesture he’d missed from his father, but now it had grown beyond that. Now it was a gesture he expected from Credence as well.

Holding a shining candlestick aloft, Credence watched from the doorway as Oliver pulled the covers up to his chin and whispered his last goodnights. With that Credence closed the door quietly taking the light with him.

He turned to enter his own rooms and thought the hall empty until a low voice sounded from the shadows.

“Are you a godly man, Credence?”

Credence jumped and shined his candle towards the source.

“Mr. Graves, my Lord,” he breathed upon seeing the man waiting for him.

Mr. Graves was leaning against the wall just outside Credence’s bedroom door. His eyes glowed like a

Credence blinked, floored by the question. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, or if he should even answer honestly. So, he simply told the truth.

“I was raised by nuns, my Lord. It was their duty to instil godliness in all the orphaned children.”

Mr. Graves tilted his head back against the wall and chuckled, an attractive if not dangerous sound at that time of night.

“Interesting way to answer,” he replied. “Perhaps you can explain some things about the church to me as you have my son.”

Credence noticed the man’s smirk, but couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or not, so he simply replied, “If you’d like, my Lord.”

Mr. Graves eyed him for a moment. It was a heated stare that made Credence hot all over and left him unsure whether he wanted to excuse himself and hide away in his room or request the Lord join him for another nightcap.

Mr. Graves pushed himself from his lean against the wall to stand. He paced back a step and in that moment Credence let out the breath he’d been holding.

“I know, Oliver forgot to ask, so I will,” Mr. Graves began, “Please do join us for breakfast before church. It would be strange to have you eating with the staff when you’re going to be coming out with us directly afterwards.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And it’s a bit of a walk so I suggest you bring a coat.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Mr. Graves nodded slowly, not quite ready to leave. He was still appraising Credence in his way, good or bad, Credence couldn’t quite tell, but every inch of him tingled under that gaze.

“Goodnight, then,” Mr. Graves said after a pause. “Sleep well.”

“Yes, goodnight–“ before Credence could finish Mr. Graves was gone, down the hall back to his rooms.

“–my Lord.”

•:۞:•

In the morning after breakfast, as soon as Mr. Graves and Credence left with Oliver, the house staff went into a frenzy. Everyone was hard at work preparing for the extended family and any guests that would surely be joining the family for lunch.

It was indeed a bit of a walk from the Woolworth Manor to the local church. Out on the peacefully empty road , Credence and Mr. Graves walked side-by-side while Oliver skipped along ahead of them, often stopping to smell the wildflowers that lined the road.

Credence couldn’t help but smile.

“He’s such a sweet child,” he said. “You must be very proud.”

“He is. And, yes. I am,” Mr. Graves replied with a smile of his own. “I must say though–“

Credence looked over at the man whose face was drawn with thoughtful lines.

“I have never seen my son so very full of life and energy. He usually has his ups and downs throughout the day... you’ve changed that.”

Credence inhaled sharply. Immediately he set about shaking his head, rebuffing any of Mr. Graves’ praise.

“It isn’t all me.”

Mr. Graves could have laughed at how ridiculously naive this young man was.

“It’s you,” he said, staunch in stating the fact.

Credence was stunned silent. Mr. Graves would not be argued with.

“Ollie loves you,” he went on, his eyes dark and earnest. “Truly. He loves you.”

Shame flooded Credence to his core. In that moment, he realized he hadn’t yet come to a decision about whether he was going to stay past the end of the month. He’d only agreed to that length of time, after all. His contract ended so soon, but even with Mr. Graves returned home early, the opportunity to discuss it never came up.

Perhaps now was the moment?

Credence opened his mouth to broach the topic, but stopped suddenly as Olive ran up to him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Credence,” The boy started, looking up at his tutor through his dark lashes.

“Yes?” Credence stopped thinking about Mr. Graves altogether and crouched down, his full attention on Oliver. It was so much easier to talk to children; their expectations were so much simpler.

“I found this for you!” From behind his back, Oliver produced a single poppy, plucked from the roadside. He held it out for Credence.

“You can put it in you’re pocket. Like how daddy does his handkerchief. Here!” Oliver tucked the flower into Credence’s breast pocket before his hands returned to clasp behind his back and he shyly looked down at the ground once more, focused on where his toe was drawing a line in the dirt.

“Oh!” Credence beamed bright, a smile that was positively infectious. “What a wonderful idea! It’s lovely, Oliver, thank you.”

Oliver made a happy sound, showing all his teeth.

“You’re welcome!”

Credence stood. Awkwardness fled from his being as he watched Oliver run off ahead of them once more.

As the continued walking, Mr. Graves reached out. He took hold of Credence’s upper arm and gently pulled him close as he leaned in towards the young man.

“It’s you,” he murmured into Credence’s ear before letting go.

Credence blushed at the feeling of hot breath on his ear, but found he hadn’t flinch at all when Mr. Graves touched him.

•:۞:•

The old church had stood on the outside of town for many long years before even the oldest among the villagers could remember. Its roof had been repaired several times over thanks to the charity of the congregation, but its stone walls had long since been ravaged by nature. In those flowering months, the little church was a colourful mesh of green moss and wildflowers.

Lady Seraphina Picquery was always the first in the pews. She liked to stare at the priest as he prepared, getting a small thrill out of confusing the poor man, making him nervous. Others thought her cruel, but her favourite moments were when the priest retreated from her stare and hid in the vestry until more of his parishioners started to arrive.

Seraphina sat with her fiancé, Mr. Langdon Shaw, who was a notable printer and publisher, but uninteresting man in and of himself. Honestly, Seraphina hadn’t fully decided that she was going to wed him. She enjoyed surrounding herself with interesting people and the young Mr. Shaw was simply... not.

This was one of the reasons she did so enjoy her brother-in-law’s company. Percival Graves was a very interesting man.

Mr. Shaw did not share his fiancé’s keenness for this handsome man who’d been left widowed by her sister. He saw Percival as competition.

Seraphina knew this. It was one of the reasons she insisted they all meet on Sunday's.

The tension between the two men was deliciously palpable.

“Percival, come sit with us,” she all-but demanded as she caught sight of Mr. Graves coming down the aisle.

Mr. Graves paused, raising his brow at her. There was only one seat still open next to Seraphina, but it was no bother. Without even needing to be asked, Credence smiled and took Oliver to sit in two empty seats just across the aisle.

Mr. Graves nodded his thanks and sat comfortably next to his sister-in-law. He nodded a curt greeting to Mr. Shaw before shooting a look over to make sure his son was alright with Credence. He caught sight of Oliver whispering something to Credence that got them both talking in hushed, but excited voices. They were happy as a pair of clams at high tide.

The congregation hushed up as the sermon began.

The priest droned on as always. He did so love to preach sin and suffering. His parishioners were only too happy for a break in his lecturing when communion began. They lined up to receive before, one by one, returning to their seats.

“Percival, who is that charming young man attending my nephew?” Seraphina asked after she and Mr. Graves had returned to her seat from receiving communion.

Mr. Graves looked up from the hymn book he’d been absently perusing. In his line of sight, Oliver had just said ‘amen’ and was patiently watching Credence as he kneeled in order to receive communion on his tongue.

“Hm,” Mr. Graves cleared his throat and shook off a most unholy thought. “Credence. Yes. He’s Oliver’s new tutor.”

Seraphina hummed, side-eyeing her brother-in-law with a curious glance.

“You brought your son’s new tutor to church with you?”

“Is that a problem? I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if it weren’t for him. Next week I will gladly give him the morning off and sit with my son,” he teased with a straight-face.

Seraphina smirked. “It’s just odd, Percival. You’re house is obviously lacking a governess, but Oliver seems happy.”

The boy was indeed. As Credence walked hand in hand with him back to their seats, Oliver chatted away expressively, making a face and talking about how bad wine tasted.

“Yes,” Mr. Graves replied. “He’s a pleasant young man; I’m happy to have his company. And Oliver has requested he join us practically everywhere since my return.”

“I see.” Seraphina smirked. “It’s mutually beneficial so you indulged your son? Ever the coddler, Percival. The boy needs to know some discipline one day.”

Mr. Graves was very done with this conversation. It was starting to feel more and more like an interrogation and he hated talking with Seraphina about Oliver. They’d already had the same conversation a thousand times: Just because Oliver was her nephew, did not entitle her to any say over how Mr. Graves raised his son.

He was about to change the topic when Seraphina cut in again.

“Does he always wear black?” she asked, in a blatantly discourteous tone.

“What?”

“The new tutor.” Seraphina nodded towards Credence whose back was to them as he returned to his seat in the pew across. “Does he always wear black or has someone just died?”

“He’s never worn anything else. I assume he only has the one suit,” Graves said with a shrug. He'd never noticed how mournful Credence looked, but perhaps he was too busy trying to undress the young man with his eyes to actually pay attention to his clothes. Now, in the midst of a congregation dressed in light pastels and other summery colours, Credence stood out like a black sheep.

“It's quite a dour look for such a handsome young man,” Seraphina drawled on. “With that charming smile of his, he shouldn’t spend his days dressing like he’s in mourning.”

Mr. Graves looked up to the church’s frescoed ceiling and sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do to dress him more to your liking then, my dear sister.”

Seraphina rolled her eyes.

“He works in your house, dress him how _you_ like,” she suggested with a giggle that had several other parishioners turning to frown at her.

Mr. Graved leaned back in the pew. He nodded in apology, for it was unlikely they’d get anything short of a jeer from Seraphina.

Throughout the rest of the sermon, he couldn’t help letting his mind run over his sister-in-law’s words again and again.

Dress him how you like.                                                             

A wicked part of him enjoyed that thought far too much.

•:۞:•

When the service came to an end, they shook hands with the priest and walked home joined by a few other prominent men from the village, their wives, Lady Picquery and her fiancé.

Seraphina took the time to walk with her nephew, who looked up at her adoringly. It wasn’t often his aunt had a moment to spare for him; she was a very busy society lady.

Mr. Graves walked with his fellows ahead of them, discussing matters of the town and infrastructure. Business talk was rather tedious, but such things had to be done and sorted by the landlords and estate owners.

This left Credence trailing along behind with Seraphina’s fiancé. Mr. Shaw didn’t speak a word the entire way back to the house, practically ignoring him. He caught up with Seraphina as soon as they reached the steps. He took her hand to escort her up to the door.

Credence sighed, blessed to be relived of the man’s presence. He watched the nobles ahead of him file into the dining room, but turned off, heading instead for the lower part of the house.

Tina came out of the servants’ passage just as he was going in.

“Credence?” she gasped, startled as he came around the hall so suddenly. “What are you doing here? Are you not joining the family?”

“I suppose not,” Credence replied with a indifferent smile. “His Lordship has guests, Oliver being entertained by his aunt, and I was not formally invited to join in on lunch. Just breakfast.”

Tina hummed her understanding. “Best you join Queenie and Jacob then. They’ve just sat down for a bite to eat.”

“Yes, I think I shall. Thank you, Tina.”

She nodded before spinning around to rush off in hast to check that any and all lunch preparations were properly laid out in the dining room.

Credence continued down into the staff corridor. The basement hallways lacked the luxuriance of the rest of the manor house, but they were nothing to scoff at.

In a grand room adjacent to the kitchen, a long table had been set for a staff luncheon that, apart from the dishes it was being served on, equalled that which was being had in the dining room above.

“Well, well, well! Look who’s come to join us lowly folk in the kitchen!” Jacob teased when Credence arrived at their end of the table.

As Queenie gently smacked her husband’s burly arm, but Credence only smiled at his antics.

“There are so many guests from church at the table today. I’d be imposing,” he told them, repeating the explanation he’d given Tina.

“I’m sure you could have joined even if you weren’t asked,” Queenie said, knowingly. “I think it’ll be stranger for the young master, you not being there.”

Credence bit his lip, but he simply shrugged.

“He’ll be alright.”

Stacking their plates full, the three of them chattered amicably between mouthfuls. When Abernathy came down from serving, they laughed at the way he plunked heavily into a chair. He announced, with great relief, that the guests had finally left.

“Is it so terrible to entertain them?” Credence asked with a curious smile. He had little knowledge of the responsibilities of the rest of the household staff since his duty was solely to Oliver.

Abernathy groaned, letting his head loll back on his chair.

“Sunday’s are the worst! Particularly today. Lady Picquery said something or another that upset Oliver, which annoyed his father and left the entire room in a tense mood and when the nobles are tense they are rude to us because, of course, we’re just there. Convenient, aren’t we?”

The others tittered, but they all agreed.

Before Credence could ask him to explain the part about Oliver further, Tina rushed into the room behind him.

She came down into the kitchen, wringing her hands in her lap. Her lips seemed non-existent as she’d sucked them into her mouth out of nervousness.

“Credence, his Lordship is asking for you,” she said.

“Oh?” Credence stood slowly from the table. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done.

“Where is he?”

“In his study. You’d best finish your tea then head up. Oliver has been sent to his room to nap this afternoon, so don’t worry about him.”

Credence frowned at that. Oliver had so much energy on the weekend, but perhaps if what Abernathy said was true, he was upset.

Poor boy. Wild emotions did drain him so.

Credence took his last sip of tea and then went directly up to Mr. Graves’ study.

He tapped gently on the door.

“Come in Credence.”

When Credence entered, the man was at his desk, hands folded beneath his chin. He looked exhausted and there was an odd air about him, a mood that Credence had yet to see him in.

“You asked to see me, Mr. Graves?” Credence said carefully, still standing in the open doorway, almost scared to enter.

“Yes. Please.” Mr. Graves waved him in, adding, “Close the door.”

Credence obeyed, before walking forward to take up a seat in the chair across the desk.

“Oliver was... quite upset at lunch today,” Mr. Graves started with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, my Lord. I’m so sorry if–“

“It was nothing you did, please don’t apologize, my sister–“ Mr. Graves paused, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter what she said. He was upset by it and refused to eat.”

“Poor thing,” Credence whispered, pressing his hand to his mouth thoughtfully. Perhaps he’d bring him one of Jacob’s cakes later in the afternoon.

“I’d like it if you join us for every meal from now on,” Mr. Graves said, curring off his train of through.

Credence looked up with wide eyes. The pronouncement seemed to come out of nowhere.

“No matter the company,” Mr. Graves continued, “you should take your seat next to Oliver and dine with us.”

“Oh,” Credence gasped. “I thought– Did you not want to discuss my contract? The month is coming to an end and I would have thought–”

“What’s there to discuss?” Mr. Graves cut in. He frowned as he leaned casually back in his seat. “You are planning to stay on, aren’t you?”

Credence opened and closed his mouth for a moment, unable to speak.

Eventually, he stammered:

“I– yes, my Lord. If you are happy with me.”

“I am.” Mr. Graves smiled. “There now, business concluded. You’ll stay on and join us for every meal. Do not await requests.”

Credence nodded. Bowing his head, he hid his own smile behind a curtain of black tresses.

Mr. Graves stood and came around his desk. He went over to the side table and poured himself a glass of brandy before coming back to lean against the desk’s edge. His eyes roam over the obscure young man in his dark suit.

Dress him how you like.

Seraphina’s words came back to him like a slap in the chest and nearly had him choking on his drink.

She hadn't let up over lunch. Mr. Graves didn’t want to tell Credence, but that was what had so viciously offended Oliver. Hearing his aunt talking ill of Credence had set the boy off into a teary fit.

Oliver didn’t care about looks or fashion, and he stated with pride that he liked Credence no matter how black his suit was.

Mr. Graves agreed with his son. In his opinion, Seraphina was far too particular in her observation of on other people’s manner of dress. Credence looked fine and professional, despite his mournful black suit.

However, the more Mr. Graves thought about her words from that morning in the church, the more he wanted to make them a reality. He wanted to dress Credence as he liked, keen to take this young man to London’s finest tailor and have him fitted with the latest fashions.

Like a doll. A pretty young doll to dress and play with.

“Credence,” he said. His voice came out coarse from a place deep in his chest.

The young man looked up at him, so innocently unaware of his Lord’s desires.

“Yes, my Lord?”

Mr. Graves cleared his throat, stopping a moment. It was difficult to broach the topic, but Credence was staring at him insistently.

“I’d like to take you into town tomorrow after your morning lessons.”

Credence’s eyes went wide, compelling him to explain.

“We’ll pay a visit to my tailor and have you fitted for a new wardrobe.”

“A new wardrobe? For me?”

“Yes. Since you’ll be joining the family and guests for meals, it’s best you have something more... flattering to wear. My sister-in-law, she suggested you acquire some less... funereal clothing.”

Credence folded his hands in his lap and stared down at his worn black shoes. He was mortified, having thought that somehow no one would notice.

“I’m sorry that I only have the one suit, but I couldn't possibly afford–”

“I would, of course, purchase everything on your behalf,” Mr. Graves said, cutting him off before he could finish. Smiling at the way Credence’s jaw dropped, he continued, saying, “You should not have to pay a penny for my whims.”

“My Lord, I couldn’t possibly–“

“When is your birthday?”

“I– it's later in the summer, Mr. Lord.”

“Then think of it as an early birthday gift.”

“But–”

“I insist, Credence. I will not have you contended how I spend my money." Mr. Graves gestured vaguely. "Besides, I've already asked Tina to mind Oliver while we’re out for the afternoon.”

Biting his lip, Credence looked up.

“In that case, I don't see how I could possibly refuse.”

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos thank Mr. Graves ever so kindly for his generosity.  
> Your comments say a few Hail Marys because, dear lord, it's time to start sinning... in the next chapter. ;)


	5. Fancy, Rich, Not Gaudy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Graves whisks Credence away to the local tailor to be fitted for his new wardrobe. However, he wasn’t expecting to have such a… physical reaction to seeing the young man in his fancy new clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Thank you all for being so patient! Every single message I've gotten has been so lovely! I've gotten some notes about it so TO EVERYONE: feel free to do fanart or photosets or inspired work or whatever! Just show it to me because I wanna see! I'm itsanidiom on Tumblr. <3
> 
> Now... who's ready to start sinning?   
> I know I am... ehehe...

•:۞:•

“Credence,” Tina whispered. From her place down the hall, she waved him over as soon as he exited the room. She’d been hiding out in an alcove, waiting for him to leave Mr. Graves’ study.

“Tina?” Credence replied as he closed the study door behind him. There was a sense of urgency about her as she motioned him over.

Tina bit her lip and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one else was within earshot.

“You’re not leaving are you?” she inquired, brows already arched sadly as if she knew the answer would be ‘yes’.

Credence stopped mid-step and pressed  a hand to his chest in surprise.

“No!” he gasped. “I’ve decided to stay on. We just discussed it Mr. Graves and I.”

Tina’s brow pulled tighter into a confused knot.

“Is that what that was all about?”

Credence looked back down the hall towards Mr. Graves’ study. He fiddled with his fingers, and dropped his gaze bashfully to the floor.

“Well,” he explained, “His Lordship was just asking me to be sure to join in on meals when not requested. Apparently, it upset Oliver that I was not there this afternoon.”

Upon hearing this, Tina practically fainted, one hand falling to the nearby wall for support.

“Oh, just that! Thank god! I thought the worst when he asked me to find someone to watch Oliver tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, there was that too.” Credence blushed furiously and gestured to his funereal suit. “Tomorrow, Mr. Graves is taking me to town. I’m to be fitted for a new, more suitable wardrobe.”

He didn’t admit it to Tina, but he was still a bit shaken by how ardently Mr. Graves had insisted on taking him to be fit for new clothing.

“Ah!” Tina pressed a hand to her cheek and cocked her head against it. She’d been privy to the shouting match Oliver had with his aunt. It was a bit of a shock at first, but ever so sweet to see the boy defending Credence so fervently, much to his aunt’s bewilderment and his father’s smirking amusement.

Still, Tina couldn't help but admit that she sort of agreed with Lady Picquery.

She looked Credence up and down, before giving a curt nod. The boy needed some new clothes.

“To be honest, I did worry when you first mentioned this particular suit,” he said.

Credence bowed his head.

“Well!” Tina clapped her hands, snapping him out of his embarrassed slouch. “It seems you have a new patron of sorts! Isn’t that lovely? I do hope you don’t let him spoil you too much, dear.”

The blush tinting Credence’s cheeks grew rosier at that. He lifted a hand to his face, feeling the heat radiating off them.

“I’ll protest if I feel anything is too much,” he replied, his voice a shy whisper.

Tina just laughed. She hooked her arm in his and together they made their way back down to the kitchens, ready to enjoy their Sunday afternoon off.

•:۞:•

The night rolled into the next day, as it was wont to do.

After working on spelling all through his morning class with Credence, Oliver was placed in Queenie’s care for the rest of the afternoon.

He stood in the hall, watching his father and Credence fetch their coats in preparation to leave. He pouted, his arms crossed tight over his chest. Oliver was very adamant that this was all completely unfair.

“I don’t want to stay at home! I didn't get to see Credence all day yesterday!” He protested, unwilling to release Credence’s hand even as Queenie drew him to her with soft grip gently squeezing his shoulders.

“Oliver, do not tug at Credence like that,” Mr. Graves said, correcting his son’s behaviour with a sharp look and a stern tone. “It’s very rude.”

The boy pursed his lips, but did as he was told. His hands dropped from Credence’s to his sides where they balled into little fists.

“I don’t see why I can't just come along,” Oliver muttered, kicking at some invisible piece of dust on the floor.

Mr. Graves smiled down at his son, his eyes going soft.

He really didn’t have a good reason. He wanted to spend some time alone with Credence, but he most certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone that, especially not Oliver that. Credence’s only purpose in the household was Oliver for Christ’s sake.

Realizing his own lack of due propriety, Mr. Graves casually cleared his throat.

“It wouldn’t be any fun for you,” he said to his boy. This wasn’t untrue. “We’re going to see Mr. Eberstadt. You hate the tailor.”

“I suppose,” Oliver bit out under his breath. Despite the fact that Mr. Eberstadt had accidentally prodded him with a needle by accident on one very traumatizing occasion, he still didn’t seem happy with that answer.

Credence bit his lip and looked to Queenie with a hopeful expression. Perhaps her plans for the afternoon would lighten the boy’s foul mood.

Queenie did not disappoint.

“Don’t you want to come make apple strudel with Mr. Kowalski and I, young master?” she said, placing her hands on her knees as she met the little boy’s eyes, shooting him a sparkling wink.

Oliver’s face lit up. “Strudel!?”

“That’s right!”

With his son’s short attention span easily diverted, Mr. Graves nodded a silent thanks to Queenie before leading Credence out the front door.

Looking back over one shoulder to verify that the other two had disappeared down into the kitchens, Mr. Graves placed a gentle hand on Credence’s lower back. He held it there as they made their way outside.

Credence sucked in a breath and dared a sideways glance. When Mr. Graves caught his eye and smiled, he was quick to turn away.

Not one to be ignored, Mr. Graves pressed the hand on Credence’s back tighter, finger’s just barely curling around the younger man’s waist.

•:۞:•

The awaiting carriage transported the all along the country roads and into the locale village. They didn’t have to go all the way to London to find a most excellent tailor.

Mr. Heinrich Eberstadt had immigrated to their little village from Switzerland where he’d worked as one of the foremost tailor’s to nobility. His move was, in part, for his own retirement, but he still kept a small but lavish shop in the village and was open to commissions from anyone who could afford it.

Mr. Graves was one such man.

He held the door as Credence entered the shop. The younger man’s eyes went wide immediately for he had never seen such an array of opulent clothing.

The walls of were lined with wrought iron racks of premade shirts and the finest cuttings waiting to be fit. Ornate shelves above them were stacked with tall cylindrical hat boxes and another set of shelves below was split into narrow sections each filled with thick rolls of fabric, everything from silk to tweed.

Mr. Eberstadt stood behind a large work table, cutting out shapes from a long strip of cloth. As soon as they entered, he placed his scissors down and smiled.

“Welcome, Lord Graves,” he greeted them, his lips curling beneath his grey streaked beard. Without further ado, he ushered them further inside to a plush seating area surrounded by the most luxurious of furnishings.

“Now this appointment isn’t for you, but your new valet here? Correct?” Mr. Eberstadt gave Credence a quick once over, already taking mental measurements of his slender form.

“My son’s tutor, yes.” Mr. Graves replied causally. He removed his hand and sat upon a chaise. When he looked up, he noticed the tailor was staring at him, curiously, so he gestured silently for him to tend to Credence.

Mr. Eberstadt raised a brow at Credence. Surprised by Mr. Graves’ response, he wondered how it was a tutor could afford a university education, but relied on his Lord for new clothes. Still, he wasn’t one to ask questions where it wasn’t his business to do so.

“Alright then, young sir. Follow me to the mirror, if you please.” Mr. Eberstadt slipped a long piece of measuring tape from where it was wrapped about his neck like a scarf. “If you wouldn’t mind, just strip down to your undergarments and pop your outer clothes on the stool.”

The tailor’s words immediately drew Mr. Graves’ attention from the assortment of cravats behind the glass case he’d been perusing. His eyes snapped over to the fitting area where Credence stood, worrying his bottom lip.

Credence slowly reached up to untie the black cravat an slip it from his collar. He unbutton his coat, next, pale fingers trembling slightly over the glassy buttons.

Ever the professional, Mr. Eberstadt went about his work without any sign of discomfiture. He traced the lines of Credence’s slender form with his string of measuring tape in hand and jotted down notes in a small leather-bound pocketbook.

“Now, what sort of suit were you looking for, young sir?” the tailor asked. “Would you like the vests single or double breasted? Frock coat or tail?”

Credence’s eyes went wide. The man was asking him? He didn’t have the slightest idea!

Credence opened and shut his mouth a few times, until, thankfully, Mr. Graves came to his rescue.

“I’d like him to have a few things, whatever would best suit his figure,” the older man replied. “A few things in lighter colours for the summer and perhaps a formal suit and a few colours for when fall rolls back around.”

A few? Credence gasped. Mr. Graves was being far too generous. He knew he’d promised Tina that he would protest, but he couldn’t voice over the Lord’s confident instruction.

Looking over the last of Credence’s measurements, Mr. Eberstadt hummed.

“You’re a delicate young thing, aren’t you?” he murmured to himself before turning to Mr. Graves who was watching with some interest from the chaise. “I do have something in his size. It’s a delicate cream colour that should complement his light complexion. I made it for another young man who unfortunately forgot about his order and took off to America.”

“Such are the whims of youth,” Mr. Graves said without taking his eyes off Credence. “Does cream sound amicable?”

“Ah?” Credence was hardly a connoisseur of the latest fashions, so he wasn’t about to argue with the tailor who’d already mentioned that it would be flattering. “Of course, my Lord. Shall I try it on?”

“Indeed, if you plan on purchasing it,” Mr. Eberstadt teased with a knowing smile. “One moment, I’ll just fetch it from the back.”

As soon as Mr. Eberstadt left, Mr. Graves took the opportunity to stand. He walked up behind Credence as the young man fiddled with the sleeve of his undershirt.

“You seem uneasy,” Mr. Graves said. His hands came up to rest on Credence’s tense shoulders, pressing them down gently.

Credence sighed as a tingling through his spine relaxed the muscles relaxed down his back.

“Have you never had a suit fit before?” Mr. Graves asked.

“Only once, for... well–” Credence looked over to the black fabric folded on the nearby stool. “It’ not that, it’s just rather embarrassing being the only one half dressed.”

Credence met Mr. Graves’ gaze in the mirror, taking in the man’s handsomely-barbered appearance and the smooth lines of his casual suit, one of many Credence had seen him wear just over the last weekend.

He sighed dreaming of a day he’d own such an astounding wardrobe.

“Will you get a new suit today as well?” he asked.

“No. Today is for you.”

Credence nodded.

“I suppose you already have all the fine things you need, Mr. Graves.”

Smiling, Mr. Graves reached up to brush Credence’s hair back off the pale line of his neck. His long fingers played with a single midnight strand, wrapping it to curl around his middle digit.

“I suppose I do,” he murmured.

Credence bit his lip as Mr. Graves let the stray hairs fall.

The older man backed away, once more taking up his seat upon Mr. Eberstadt’s return.

“Now let’s see–” the tailor said as he began helping Credence into the bespoke pieces.

Credence tried the ensemble and it was indeed a perfect fit. The cream coloured vest and trousers were complemented by a white cravat. A darker coloured coat that was closer to brown than black topped the whole ensemble.

Mr. Graves stood once more from his seat and circled Credence to get a better look.

“It’s perfect.”

“Is it? I mean… Is it meant to be this tight?” Credence asked gently, not wanting to insult the tailor. His hands pressed to his lower ribs were the vest tapered dramatically.

“It’s the style, yes,” Mr. Graves chuckled. Placing his hands on Credence’s waist, he demonstrated how the fabric was cinched. “The vest gives your waistline a more genteel appearance.”

“I suppose,” Credence breathed, his voice betraying him as Mr. Graves large hands circled his hips.

“Very fashionable,” Mr. Graves commented.

“I would be happy to offer your Lordship a discount for taking this item off my hands,” Mr. Eberstadt said with an annoyed look that was surely meant for the patron that had left him saddled with the item. “You may take this today and I’ll have the rest of the new wardrobe delivered to Woolworth Manor by the month’s end.”

“Good. If you would, have Credence old suit sent along too. He can wear this home.”

“Can I?” Credence gasped. Such a fine thing surely should be reserved for a special occasion.

Mr. Graves shook his head and laughed, thinking that Credence was only joking. He was still smiling placed a hand on a shocked Credence’s back, leading him towards the door.

“Please send the invoice to my bookkeeper.”

“Naturally, Mr. Graves. Have a good evening, you both.”

Credence turned to give polite thanks to Mr. Eberstadt before being ushered out of the shop.

The streets were dark as they made their way to the carriage parked on the lamp lined village road. The only other man there with them was the lamplighter himself, with his ladder and lantern.

As he escorted the younger man into the carriage, Mr. Graves’ hand left Credence’s back and smoothed gently over his new coat. He didn’t stop the hum that rumbled from his chest at the soft feel of the fabric.

Credence sat, biting his lip as he fiddled with the hem of his new vest. He couldn’t take his eyes off his fine new clothes. This was the first time he’d ever owned something so fine and brightly coloured; every suit he’d owned since living in the orphanage had been dark, uniform or rough as burlap.

“Do you like it?” Mr. Graves asked as soon as he took up the seat across from Credence. His gaze was hooded, but attentive.

“It’s a fine thing, my Lord. I cannot thank you enough.”

“It looks splendid on you,” Mr. Graves murmured. His eye swept the cinched line of Credence’s form. “Very fitting. I can’t wait to see you try the others.”

Credence finally tore his eyes off the creamy vest and up towards the man who’d bequeathed it to him. Again, he’d almost forgotten that this was just one part of a series of transactions. Mr. Graves was being ever so generous, all just so that Credence could fit in amongst the noble family.

He bowed his head, hiding yet another blush.

It was dark in the carriage, so he was sure Mr. Graves couldn't see his red cheeks.

As they tumbled on through the streets in the back of the carriage, Credence became more and more aware that there was very little room to move about. From where he was seated on the seat across, Mr. Graves’ legs were splayed wide and Credence sat between them with his legs pressed together tight at the knees.

Credence shifted slightly, feeling a little caged in. But still he smiled, an innocent little smile, as he continued the conversation.

“I will be very happy to try on the other suits for you once they arrive. If you’d like, my Lord?”

Mr. Graves didn't reply for a moment, he simply stared at Credence, lost in thought.

He only snapped out of it when they hit a bump in the road.

“Yes, quite.” Clearing his throat, Mr. Graves fought the urge to cross his legs. He was very conscious of the fact that if Credence were to cast a glance downwards there would be very prominent evidence of his most dishonourable thoughts on display. So, using the sake of Credence’s comfort as an excuse, he moved to sit to on the same side of the carriage bench.

Credence’s breath hitched as Mr. Graves squeezed in next to him, the older man’s much larger body taking up the space. Once more, he sat with his legs spread comfortably, his outer-thigh pressed tight against Credence’s leg.

Credence felt his blood as it rushed through him, heart pumping a throbbing beat deep inside of him.

The carriage was stiflingly hot all of a sudden. Credence almost thought he was going to start having troubles breathing. The new vest he wore was so punitively tailored to his slim form that he felt like he’d been corseted.

But... that wasn’t all.

Credence shivered when a hand landed on his thigh. He looked over to see Mr. Graves, staring at him most ardently.

“Credence, are you well?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Credence’s voice came out, but it was barely a breathless whisper. He looked up at Mr. Graves; the man’s eyes were on him, intent clear in their depths.

“You’re sure?” the older man asked. “You seem flush.”

Credence let out a heavy breath and returned his gaze to the dark fields beyond the window of their carriage.

That hand was still on his thigh, sliding along the rich fabric of his new trousers, higher and higher up.

“Credence.”

There was breath on his neck now, burning hot in the oppressive warmth of the carriage. Lips brushed the pale line of his throat, caressing his skin, a hairs width away.

Credence let his eyes slip shut.

“Mr. Graves.”

That hand on him pressed into his skin, a firm and unyielding grip. Strong, rough fingers moved in along a tailored inseam, sliding up his inner thigh, up and up until the entire palm was pressed to the front of Credence’s trousers.

Cupping the hard warmth there, Mr. Graves traced the intersecting seam down, his middle finger rubbing hard along the line of soft fabric.

Credence turned his head and found himself gasping into Mr. Graves’ mouth as their lips met in the most sensuous of kisses. There was instantly a hand on his neck, pulling him in closer.

They came together, their breaths heavy, sounding from their lungs like the crashing of water bursting from a broken dam. At the first touch of the Lord’s lips, Credence was drowning, sucked deep into the pleasure of it all.

Mr. Graves wanted to be gentle. He tried, but, by god, Credence was voracious in his need. So beautifully responsive, his entire body surged, writhing with each touch and every motion of the carriage that rocked them together. Its jittering sent pleasurable vibrations through both of them.

“Oh, oh, Mr. Graves,” Credence gasped between kisses, pressing his legs together affectively trapping the older man’s hand between his thighs.

Mr. Graves obediently pressed harder as long pale fingers dragged through his hair. He allowed a firm tug to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss.

He wanted to breathe Credence in for all that he was, hold him in like smoke from the finest cigar. Mr. Graves would happily suffocated on that sweet air.

Credence arched up into his hand. Their lips had parted as Credence started to pant heavily. He arched up into the older man’s hand where it pressed harder, rubbing his untouched body through the soft fabric of his trousers.

A building pleasure Credence had never before experience moved from delicious to nearly unbearable.

Credence’s eyes were nearly watering when he gased, “Mr. Graves, I–”

The sudden abrupt rumble of the carriage hitting the gravel covered drive of Woolworth Manor shocked them both.

Credence snapped out of the haze of pleasure in an instant, unable to believe what had very nearly just happened.

He jumped back against the wall of the carriage and stared at Mr. Graves, his eyes wide with a look of abject horror. And Mr. Graves, oh, he was so devilishly handsome still with his lips bruised from their lustful acts and his hair all awry from Credence’s fingers.

“We’ve arrived, your Lordship,” the carriage drive called out as they pulled to a stop.

Both Credence and Mr. Graves remained still as if the slightest movement would alert the driver to what they’d been doing in his carriage.

After a pause, Mr. Graves opened his suddenly dry mouth to speak.

“Credence, I–“

“I– I should go relieve Queenie so she can get back to her regular duties before dinner,” Credence said, cutting him off quite suddenly. He moved out of their now awkward tangle of an embrace and stole quickly from the carriage.

Mr. Graves placed his hand against the wall and sighed. Left leaning over the empty seat Credence had occupied moments before, it would be a few minutes before he’d be presentable enough to move.

•:۞:•

Dinner was a tricky affair. Credence again found himself using poor unknowing little Oliver as a shield. He devoted all of himself and his attention to the boy, all in order to avoid Mr. Graves’ heady glances.

Still when their eyes did perchance meet, Credence burned for more.

In the bath later that night, Credence couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Graves. Every lap of water against his skin reminded him of the man’s warm touch.

Reaching beneath the surface, Credence took himself in hand.

He was hesitant at first since he never touched himself. Memories of childhood punishments rush back to him with all too vivid clarity. The nuns would have slapped his hands raw if they’d caught him. After the orphanage, once he arrived at boarding school and again during university, he’d always shared a room with other boys.

Still, thanks to the magnificent distraction that was Mr. Graves, it didn’t take long at all for Credence to become attuned to his body and all of the sensations he could give himself.

Now, in the privacy of his own warm bath, he was free to explore the pleasures of the flesh and, oh, the deliciousness filled him with want for more and more. It was stirring something deep within him, something that had been repressed, kept quiet and hidden away out of sight and out of mind. The swirling black mesh of lust within him flared with each touch, each caress.

His head lolled back against the rim of the claw foot tub, hair dipping into the bathwater. For far too long his body had been denied this feeling: lush and wet and everything he needed in that moment.

Credence rubbed himself gently with one hand, stroking his cock in a firm grip. He bit the tip of his thumb, letting the nail catch between his teeth as he gasped. With his mouth occupied, his tiny huffs and moans were silenced. He was gagged, the name trying to escape his lips held within and gently muted.

Mr. Graves.

Credence’s mind was positively brimming with thoughts of the man, his eyes, his hands, his touch. Credence replayed their tantalizing kiss over and over in his mind. Such a debauched scene they must have made coming out of that over-warm carriage.

Credence moaned, a soft sound in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and let his fingers dip between his legs, tracing the line on his naked skin where Mr. Graves had been before, along the inseam of his newly bought trousers.

Credence ran one forefinger over the furled muscle of his hole and a shiver wracked his body, but he didn’t go any further than that. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a dangerously indecent act, an act that he could be punished for. But, god, the taboo only sent another sharp rush of heat through to his core.  

The water surged over the edges of the tub, splattering onto the floor as his movements rocked the bath with tidal waves.

He bit his lip, pressing up into his hand. His hips rocked faster. His legs spread on their own accord. He threw one slim limb over the edge of the tub, curling his toes against the porcelain as his hand whipped over his cock.

For the second time that day, he felt the most intense pleasure start to build within him.

Mr. Graves’ name was in the back of his mind and on the tip of his tongue.

Arching out of the bath, Credence came with one hand covered his mouth, panting into his palm as his seed painted the water a cloudy white. He sank back, his body so warm he hardly noticed that the tub had long since grown cold around him.

After a few slow deep breaths his mind calmed and he came back to reality.

Tomorrow would be fine, Credence thought to himself, as he climbed from the bath.

Towelling his body off, he walked towards where his new suit was hung up with care. Such a wonderful gift, tainted with such an improper memory. He reached out, allowing himself a moment to caress the creamy fabric, wondering if Mr. Graves’ rough hands had felt the same softness.

Credence was optimistic that there was no cause to fret; Mr. Graves would surely forget all about the incident in the carriage. He was a good decent man, after all. Such lechery was beneath him.

They would just pretend like nothing had ever happened and everything would go back to normal.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos sneak their way into Mr. Graves bed   
> Your comments join Credence in the bath


	6. Handsome Enough To Tempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Yes. Thank you for your patience. Happy weekend.  
> ......  
> This is 3000 words 90% of which are smut...   
> pure smut.  
> ...  
> [Spoiler??]  
> There were going to be TWO sex scenes, but it takes me so long to write good smut, ugh, so here's one for now.  
> ENJOY

•:۞:•

For an entire day, Credence was able to avoid Mr. Graves and thus any confrontation about what had transpired between them. In such a large house, this wasn’t terribly difficult which almost led Credence to believe that he would be able to elude the older man permanently, or at least until they’d both forgotten about that illicit carriage ride home.

Or perhaps... just until Mr. Graves forgot about it. For Credence, that was rather unlikely.

Mr. Graves’ touch had been burned into him, his memory and his skin. In bed, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the man’s lips brushing against his neck. A strong hand reached between his thighs, hot as a branding iron as it pressed down on him.

No.

Credence would not soon forget.

And so, he avoided temptation.

•:۞:•

The evasion game began at dawn. As soon as the sun peaked over the horizon, Credence woke Oliver and took him down to breakfast. It was so early that the boy was still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he dipped his toast soldiers into the yolk of a soft-boiled egg.

The two of them were finished eating by the time Mr. Graves made an appearance. As he sat down in his housecoat, Credence uttered the shortest of good mornings before rushing Oliver up to the library for class.

Mr. Graves had work to do throughout the day, so he remained sequestered in his study. He only came down in the afternoon to take tea with his son, whereupon Credence made some poor excuse to wonder the halls. He only returned when tea had just about ended to collect Oliver, brining the boy back up to the library for his afternoon studies.

“Credence–”

In the midst of this, Mr. Graves tried to have a word, but Credence apologized, saying he was dreadfully behind schedule. He then rushed away with Oliver leaving Mr. Graves behind, frustrated and confused.

With a shake of his head, he made his way back to his study.

When Mr. Graves came back down for dinner that evening, Credence doted on Oliver and all-but-completely ignored him. He was left languishing at the head of the table snubbed by both his son and the young tutor.

Mr. Graves wasn’t oblivious. He knew Credence had been avoiding him all day, sidestepping every chance encounter.

That night, Mr. Graves didn’t sit in on piano lessons like usual. Instead, he returned to his study. There was much parliamentary to attend to after all and if Credence was avoiding him, well, he didn’t want to make the young man uncomfortable.

Besides, Credence would be taking Oliver to bed shortly. Credence would have no choice but to speak with Mr. Graves if he met the young man out in the hall afterwards.

With a huff, Mr. Graves rubbed one hand across his jaw.

No. It wouldn’t do to corner Credence in such a way. Mr. Graves wanted to endear himself to Credence, not scare him off for good.

Tapping his fist lightly against his desk, Mr. Graves shook the thoughts away and got up. He left his study and returned to his own rooms to sleep alone as he did every night.

And yet tonight felt different.

He wasn’t just alone anymore; he was lonely.

•:۞:•

Once more, the next morning, the evasion game began at dawn.

Though, on this day, it did not last.

Again, Credence woke early and took breakfast with Oliver who whined about the early hour as he wearily spread jam over his toast.

Mr. Graves joined them a few moments after they’d sat down, punctual this time. He took his place at the head of the table, acting casual as ever.

Gone was the housecoat; this morning, he was impeccably dressed.

Credence couldn’t flout him.

Mr. Graves was wearing the same suit he had worn to the tailor’s on Monday. Credence knew it well, he’d dreamt of that suit, memorized every inch of it and the man underneath: the familiar line it cut over his handsome form, the feel of it, the softness pressed against him and all the places he’d let his hands move over the dark fabric.

They finished breakfast and Credence decided to keep to the first floor for Oliver’s morning lessons. He was struggling to be in the same house as Mr. Graves; he couldn’t bare to be on the same floor as the wickedly dashing man in, not that dark suit.

“It’s quite nice out, what do you say we work on your writing in the drawing room,” Credence suggested as he and Oliver one more left Mr. Graves behind in the dining room, “We’ll get more sun in there. Won’t that be lovely?”

“Alright!” Oliver cheered.

Credence smiled down at the boy, bright as ever. They were just about to move through to the next room when a voice sounded from behind them, deep, echoing through the front hall.

“Queenie.”

Credence froze. He looked over to see that Queenie had just entered the hall room with an empty tea tray for one of the sitting rooms. She paused and looked just over Credence’s shoulder.

Credence took a shuddering breath.

Mr. Graves hadn’t remained in the dining room and he hadn’t returned to his study. He was standing in the hall right behind them.

“Good morning, My Lord!” Queenie greeted him with her usual bright smile.

“Yes,” Mr. Graves smiled stiffly and placed a hand on the crown of Oliver’s head, patting his boy’s hair as he smiled up at his father, none-the-wiser.

“Could you take my son on a walk about the garden and perhaps to Newt for a riding lesson this morning? I need to have a word with Credence.”

Credence could feel a raw tingling sensation roll up his spine at the tone of his voice.

“We’ll join you both again at tea time.”

“Right away, my Lord.”

Queenie came forward and drew Oliver away from Credence. There was a knowing smirk in place on her face, curling the pink line of her lips. She’d no doubt seen the terrified expression in Credence’s eyes. Queenie’s view was that he needed to stop beating about the bush and learn how to deal with Mr. Graves... head on, as it were.

“Did you hear that, young master?” Queenie said as she led Oliver away down the hall. “Playtime already! Right after breakfast!”

“Whoray!” Oliver cheered as he took Queenie’s hand in his. He did love spending time with Queenie. She was always so busy about the house, she didn’t usually have time for him.

Credence watched with desperately arched brows as his tiny human shield was whisked away, completely unaware of his father’s ploy.

“Credence.”

Speak of the devil...

Credence turned and looked up at the Lord through a curtain of dark lashes.

Swallowing, he replied:

“Yes, Mr. Graves.”

“Follow me, please.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves.”

•:۞:•

Credence felt a shadow of dread looming over him. The closer they came to Mr. Graves’ study, the larger it grew.

When the door closed behind him, he paused, staring down at the floor, just waiting. The only sound he could hear was Mr. Graves’ footsteps moving away towards the opposite end of the room.

When silence reigned, Credence looked up.

Mr. Graves stood directly across from him, leaning against the edge of his desk, rather than sitting down calmly in his chair.

Credence knew to be concerned. Still, he played coy, fiddling with his finger nails as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Have I done something wrong, Mr. Lord?” he asked.

Mr. Graves remained silent and simply eyed him for a long while, his expression unreadable. When he finally relented to speak, he was shaking his head.

“Woolworth is a grand estate, Credence, but you cannot use its size to avoid me forever. Nor can you use my son.”

Credence’s eyes shot open wide and he quickly approached the man, defensive.

“I wasn’t–!“

Mr. Graves pressed a finger to his own lips. He had not brought Credence up to his stairs to hear his excuses.

Pushing himself off his desk, Mr. Graves slowly approached the young man, who now stood cowering in the middle of his study. He looked down at Credence and reached. Long fingers touched his chin, cupping his jaw, forcing Credence to meet his gaze.

As he met Mr. Graves’ dark, pained eyes, Credence gasped a sharp inhale that sent tremors through his core.

“Is this about the other night? Was my touch so distasteful to you?” Mr. Graves whispered, trying his best not to let a wounded expression etch itself into the lines of his face.

Credence closed his eyes and lowered his head. The hair that tumbled away to hide his face revealed the pink of a blush staining the length his pale neck.

“You must know that wasn’t the case, my Lord,” he replied.

Strong hands ran from his chin over his neck and a heavy palm traced the blush as it spread. Mr. Graves could feel Credence shivering beneath his embrace; his touch-starved body was so ready to be held, had and caressed, just as it had been on Monday.

“Credence–“

Credence looked up at Mr. Graves as he began to speak.

“Having you here with Ollie, god, it makes me so happy, but–”

Mr. Graves was staring down at him, eyes nearly black, ravenous. He had only stopped to run his tongue over dry lips.

“Watching you with my son,” he went on, “it also makes me want to steal you away from him. I wanted you in this house for him, but now I want you for my own selfish purposes, to keep you all to myself, to take you into my life, into my bed.”

Mr. Graves took a deep shaky breath. Admitting all of this out loud had arisen something in him he could not quell.

“I know you’ll think me vile, but I would ravish you like an animal in that bed. By god, you have no idea what it is you do to me.”

But Credence did know. He could feel it as they moved closer and closer to one another.

The keen length of Mr. Graves’ cock was pressed to his thigh, even through the rich fabric of the man’s tailored suit, Credence could feel the heat of it.

“Oh, Mr. Graves…”

It made him want, more than he'd ever wanted before, in a way that he'd never wanted before.

And yet...

Credence held out a hand, pressing against the man’s chest, forcing him to arms length.

“We mustn’t,” he whispered.

Mr. Graves raised his hands, yielding. His gaze was so full of questions that Credence bowed his head to escape that fixed stare.

“Why mustn’t we?” Mr. Graves asked with a half-amused smile.

“I– I’m... afraid,” Credence admitted.

“Afraid? Of me?” It saddened Mr. Graves to even contemplate the possibility. He leaned in again, pressing his brow to Credence’s temple, careful to be ever so gentle with his boy.

Still, he couldn’t help but frown.

“Have I done you wrong?”

“No.”

Never, Credence added secretly.

Mr. Graves let his gaze soften. He lifted one hand to brush the hair from Credence’s cheeks as he asked:

“What are you afraid of, Credence?”

Credence shivered at that.

“The impropriety. The scandal,” he whispered. “The rest of the staff, they talk. They say the last governess, she–”

Credence stopped, his head bowing down towards the floor. It was rude. He didn’t want to to gossip, but Mr. Graves caught his meaning.

“Ah... Miss Lestrange.”

There wasn’t any need to finish that thought.

Credence nodded.

“Well–” Mr. Graves edged himself closer, forcing Credence bodily up against the edge of his desk “–as the master of this house, I can guarantee that you will not suffer any comparable consequences.”

Mr. Graves smirked before adding:

“As long as your dalliances take place outside of teaching hours.”

Credence laughed softly. He was giddy with excitement and the want bubbling up inside him had returned full force.

He backed up until he was gripping the desk for support as his hips bumped into it.

Mr. Graves came forward and placed his hands on the desk beside them, playfully caging Credence in with his body. Though Credence was the taller of the two, the way his small, pallid frame sagged timidly made the robust Mr. Graves look positively enormous in comparison.

“Credence,” Mr. Graves whispered. His voice dropped an octave as the mood took on a heavier note. “Could you do something for me?”

“Yes, my Lord?” Credence replied, not caring even slightly what that something could be.

Mr. Graves saw this. His eyes scanned Credence for a hint of the trepidation that had led them to the study in the first place.

He found none.

“Hop up onto my desk,” he ordered.

Credence was slow, but not hesitant to comply. He pressed both hands behind him and lifted himself onto the study wooden surface.

“Like this, My Lord?” he said, trying his best to tease, but the dark blush spreading across his cheeks suggested that he wasn’t usually one to play the coquette.

Mr. Graves only hummed. He stepped closer and he fit himself between Credence’s legs, letting his hands fall to supple thighs.

Credence let out a sharp huff that almost turned into a whimper when those strong fingers pressed into his skin once more, moving up towards the creases of his hips.

Credence spread his legs as wide as they could go.

“Oh,” Mr. Graves sighed. He brought one hand up to Credence’s chin, allowing his thumb to graze his lower lip, pulling the plush wet flesh from between Credence’s teeth, humming when the damp tip of the boy’s tongue met the pad of his digit.

“How good you are for me, Credence.”

That whisper against his lips was the last thing Credence could remember, for his world soon after dissolved into ecstasy. Unable to hold back, Credence moaned into the older man’s mouth, gasping as he allowed their tongues to meet.

Mr. Graves cupped Credence’s jaw, kissing him with all the passion that had been pent up over a day spent circling each other. Now, given the opportunity to release that tension, he dove in full force.

His eyes were closed, but Credence could hear the sound of fabric shuffling as Mr. Graves unbuttoned his pants and so, with one foot hooked around the man’s study thighs, Credence pulled him in closer.

Credence gasped as the fire-heated air of the study hit his bare skin. The feeling of Mr. Graves’ hands was blessed pleasure. His fingers caressed the soft angle where boney hips pointed down towards Credence’s arching cock.

When Mr. Graves touched him, the sensation had Credence panting against the man’s neck. His finger raked hard against the shaved, salt-and-pepper of his hair.

“Is that alright,” Mr. Graves whispered. His teeth met the shell of Credence’s ear, nipping softly as he waited for a response.

Credence’s reaction came in the form of a hand pressed between their bodies. Reaching for the front of Mr. Graves’ trousers, he made quick work of the folds that covered the older man’s nakedness.

Mr. Graves pulled back slightly, with a expired grunt. Credence’s hands were soft, but so sure, sure in a way that Mr. Graves hadn’t been expecting.

He pressed his forehead to Credence’s, groaning at the first bold stroke over his length.

Credence looked down between them, gasping as his fist closed around Mr. Graves’ thick cock. It shocking to find that a man as benevolent as Mr. Graves was hiding such a monstrous thing in his trousers.

Each slow pull drew hushed sounds from the Lord and every one made Credence feel faint, his ears red. Just the noise was setting his skin ablaze.

Mr. Graves reached for him once more. Hands splayed wide, he ran his palms over Credence’s chest, feeling the hardness of his aroused nipples beneath the creamy fabric of his vest. He made quick work of the buttons and let the soft layers slide down Credence’s arms to lay upon the desk.

Credence followed, rolling back upon the wooden tabletop. His arms fell from Mr. Graves’ shoulder’s to stretch out above his head.

He looked up through his dark lashes, focusing on Mr. Graves. His eyes were hooded with pleasure.

“Please, Mr. Graves,” Credence breathed.

The older man loomed over him, leaning to press another kiss to his lips. It was rough, rough as the large hand that now gripped between his legs, holding them together and stroking their aching cocks in slick pulls.

Credence arched up off the desk, gasping with each stroke. He bit down on his finger, trying to hold back his voice.

“Credence,” Mr. Graves said his name like a whispered prayer.

“Yes, Mr. Graves. Yes,” Credence gasped uncontrollably in response, his legs still hooked around the man’s waste, tugging him close with each stroke. He nearly cried out when his cock brushed the silky cloth of Mr. Graves’ waist coat.

“Credence, do something for me?”

Mr. Graves’ breath hot against his neck as he peppered Credence’s skin with the most wonderful of kisses.

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence sighed as the man rocked against him, the heat of his length firm against Credence’s own.

“Yes. Anything you ask.”

Mr. Graves chuckled. He pressed a kiss to one nipple before leaning up once more to press a second kiss to Credence’s ear.

“Call me Percival as you climax,” he whispered.

The heat that flooded Credence struck with a dizzying intensity.

“Oh, Mr. Graves, I–”

Mr. Graves shook his head with one long finger pressed to his own lips, effectively quieting Credence. He then pressed his face into the younger man’s neck and breathed:

“What did I ask?”

Credence keened, gripping the man's shoulders tighter.

“Percival.”

Yes.

Mr. Graves let out a heady groan. His hand worked over Credence, stroking them both faster.

Credence let his head loll back against the desk as he moaned.

It was too much. His heart was pounding in his ears, each beat timed perfectly with every pull and tug of that hand on his cock. His thighs tightened, shivering unwittingly around Mr. Graves’ hips as the man rolled over the desk, thrusting against Credence and into his own hand.

Credence looked up, eyes rolling back, nearly white before he closed them.

Pure bliss burst through his body in an overwhelming throb. For a moment, he wondered if he’d died and this was heaven, for surely this climax was a religious experience.

Hot as candle wax, Mr. Graves spilt over the heaving curves of his stomach. The man held himself up with one hand his entire body jerking minutely as shaking pleasured breaths wracked lungs in heady gusts.

When the divine haze slowly drained from his mind, leaving space for his senses to come back, Credence turned his head and gently pressed a kiss to the man’s wrist where it was pressed into the desk just above his shoulder.

That drew a chuckle from Mr. Graves. Without hesitation he arched over Credence. Clasping the younger man’s jaw in both hands, he pressed a final ardent kissed to his lips, taking time to run his tongue over the plump, parted seam of them as he pulled away.

Mr. Graves lifted Credence with him as he pushed himself off the desk.

Still wavering headily in his newly seated position, Credence redressed, slowly drawing his cream coloured shirt and vest back about him with a blissful sigh. The silken fabrics slid deliciously across his over-sensitized skin. His new clothes had managed to escaped the mess they’d made, but the same could not be said for Mr. Graves’ handsome, dark attire.

“Oh, Mr. Graves,” he breathed. “Look how we’ve ruined your suit.”

Still in a dreamlike state, Credence traced a finger absently through the white stains. He pinched his fingers together, in awe of the sticky substance.

Mr. Graves pressed his head to Credence’s shoulder and groaned at the younger man’s innocence. He then moved back before he could be prompted to do any more.

Walking around to the other side of his desk, he dismissed Credence’s worry.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, leaning over the other side of his desk to press a kiss to the back of Credence’s neck before his cravat was in place to cover it.

“You should get back to Oliver. I’ll change after I’ve finished my work and join you both for dinner later.”

Credence turned then, his eyes scanning the papers strewn across the desk.

“You still have work to do?”

“Well, yes,” Mr. Graves chuckled. “I have been fairly distracted all morning and hadn’t had the chance to get to it.”

Credence blushed, biting his lip to hide a shy smile.

As Mr. Graves restacked the files that were all mismatched and askew, he let out a thoughtful hum.

“You did study law, didn’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “Perhaps you can give me a hand proof reading a few things when you have the time. I would pay you for this extra service, of course.”

Mr. Graves looked up to see the breath of excitement that rushed through Credence. It visibly lit his entire body with a glow of delight.

“You’d like me to take on work as your legal assistant?” Credence asked, not daring to assume.

“Yes. If you’re up to the challenge. I’m very particular.”

“Oh! I would love to, Mr. Graves!”

Mr. Graves shot him a smile. “Good! I’ll have Mr. Bingley make a note of it. Part time of course. You still have your duties as tutor.”

“Of course,” Credence replied. He was steadfast in his duty to Oliver.

“Although-“ he hesitated “-if there are... any other more vigorous tasks you’d have me do, I would be happy to work... pro bono... as it were.”

Mr. Graves’ eyes grew dark and his jaw tightened.

Credence felt himself blushing at his own words even as he continued.

“Shall I see you this evening, Mr. Graves?”

After a long exhale, Mr. Graves simply smiled.

“Of course. If that’s what you want.”

Credence blushed. He did want, more than anything.

“And you should know... this doesn’t have to change anything,” Mr. Graves told him. There was a hesitance in his tone, soft and accommodating.

“All I want is you here in this house.” He paused “If you wish to be here, that is.”

Slowly, Credence stepped around the desk and leaned over Mr. Graves’ plush leather chair to press a chaste kiss to his Lords lips.

“I do.”

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos engage in some 'pro bono' work.  
> Your comments keep both Queenie and Oliver innocent and completely oblivious out in the garden play with Newt and Niffler.


	7. Loss of heart and self-control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Credence’s apprehensions assuaged after their meeting in the office, a pleasant evening meal leads Creedence and Mr. Graves to a torrid nighttime affair. Impropriety could never be so blissfully succulent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back! I'm sorry this took so long, I was working on a proposal to sumbit an original story and, well, it's kind of insane writing so many things at THE SAME TIME! 
> 
> Anywho, I'm planning to finish this up before I start any new original works. SO count on better updates. I've already got the last two chapters planned out so <3 we all good~! 
> 
> This chapter is LITERALLY just smut. Next chapter will have more plot, but like, seriously how many of you are here for the plot? Seriously I wanna know. TELL ME!
> 
> Again... anyway... ENJOY DEAR READERS ENJOY<3

•:۞:•

Oliver was ecstatic, bouncing up and down in his chair when Credence returned just in time for tea. Upon seeing his tutor, the boy squealed as he sprung up and rushed over to hug Credence about the waist.

“You’re finally back!” Oliver tittered happily. “I got so bored of the gardens!”

“Oh no! We can’t have you being bored!” Credence gasped, dramatizing the situation in a manner that increased Oliver giggling tenfold. He was such a terribly delightful child.

“Can we play your spelling game again?” Oliver asked, his voice muffled as he pressed his head into Credence’s stomach.

“Yes, of course!” Credence patted his head, never one to shoo the boy away when he was being affectionate. “Shall we play a game over tea?”

“Yes! But... isn’t daddy joining us?” Oliver asked. He looked up at Credence with big dark eyes, wide with sad confusion.

“Ah, no. I’m afraid he cannot spare the time,” Credence replied calmly, holding back the blush that was trying to force its way onto his cheeks. “He still has a bit of work to do, but he’ll join us later this evening for dinner.”

Oliver finally let go of Credence. He pouted for a moment and then shrugged.

“Oh well! More biscuits for me then!” he cheered before running off to where he knew Queenie had laid everything out in the drawing room.

Credence followed behind with a smile, only casting a brief glance back in the direction he’d just come from.

Biting his lip, he forced his mind towards more innocent things... for his sanity’s sake.

•:۞:•

Dinner soon rolled around and Mr. Graves finally emerged from his study. He entered the kitchen, carrying himself with his usual refinement, gentility completely unmarred by his most ungentlemanly behaviour that afternoon.

Oliver got up from his chair, letting it scrape loudly against the floor as he pushed back form the table and hopped into his father’s open arms.

“Ah! There’s my boy!” Mr. Graves huffed out as Oliver jumped into his chest. He lifted his tiny son up into a hug, cradling the boy against him. “Did you miss me, Ollie?”

“You’ve been upstairs all day!” Oliver pouted, his eyes brimming with tears even though he’d so easily shrugged the whole thing off just hours before. “You didn’t even come have tea with us like you said!”

Mr. Graves held him tight, shushing him gently before he could cry. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Okay,” Oliver sighed. He didn’t seem to inclined to believe his father, which caused the man to raise a thick black brow.

“You had fun with Credence and Queenie, did you not?”

Oliver smiled and nodded against his neck while he eyed Credence who was watching their adorable exchange from his seat at the table.

“Ah, see! No harm then. Today, I was simply too busy, but I won’t miss tea tomorrow.”

“Okay!” More certain this time, Oliver kissed his father’s cheek before the man set him back down into his seat.

Mr. Graves straightened back up and turned his attention Credence.

“Good evening, Credence.”

“Likewise, Mr. Graves.”

Credence sucked in his bottom lip as the man took a seat at the head of the table. The two of them shared a knowing glance across the neatly set evening meal. Tension was high, but it was far removed from the discomfiture of the last few days.

After giving ritual thanks for the food, they took up their cutlery and began eating. Things had gone back to normal, there were no longer extended pauses of awkward silence, Credence was no longer scared to speak or cast a glance towards Mr. Graves. He no longer needed Oliver as a shield.

Oliver, bless him, didn’t notice any of this at all as he helped himself to roast chicken and vegetables. He was still caught up with his father’s absence about the house earlier that day.

“You were upstairs all day! You’re never upstairs all day. You usually come down for tea.”

“Yes, Ollie. As I told you, I was simply–” Mr. Graves let his gaze shift over towards Credence “–preoccupied this afternoon.”

“That's okay!” Oliver said as he continued delicately sawing his food into bite size pieces. “I got to play outside all morning!”

“Really? What did you do?”

With a shining smile, Oliver regaled them with tales of his morning jaunt around the garden. He'd even gone to see Newt in the barn.

“I pet Niffler and I got to ride the new pony you bought before you went to London, but then Tina came and she wanted to talk to Newt so Queenie brought me to the kitchen and I helped make the tea!”

Mr. Graves rested his chin on his folded hands as Oliver went on. He smiled fondly at his son, that was until the boy asked him a seemingly innocuous question.

“What were you doing in your office all day, daddy?”

Credence nearly choked on a sip of wine, coughing quietly behind his hand.

Mr. Graves cleared his throat and forced his smile into place.

“Paperwork.”

“Oh,” Oliver sighed. “That must have been terribly boring.”

“For the most part,” Mr. Graves replied, once more casting a glance towards Credence. His smile curled into a smirk.

Credence stared down at his plate, eating in silence as a red flush painted his cheeks.

The night could not come soon enough.

•:۞:•

After putting Oliver to bed with favourite story and a quick kiss on the cheek, Credence took a candlestick in hand and made his way out into the moonlit halls. He passed by his own room just across the way, but padded on, silent and barefooted, down the corridor to the master bedroom.

Without knocking, he opened the door and slipped inside.

Mr. Graves was there. Waiting.

He lay, lounging across the sheets in his bed, a book in hand. His hair hung loose, washed from its normally slicked-back style. He’d divested himself of his jacket and cravat, leaving only his trousers and white shirt hanging loose about his relaxed body.

As soon as the door closed behind Credence, he looked up and his pensive reading face was split with a sly smile.

“Has my son gone to sleep already?” he asked, as he set the book down and moved from his back, turning to sit up onto one elbow.

Credence nodded. “He was very quick to bed this evening. I suspect it was all that play this morning.”

Mr. Graves chuckled and ushered him forward.

Without any hesitation, Credence blew out his candle and placed it on the table near the door.

The room was still dimly lit by the oil reading lamp on the bedside table. Its dull glow left Credence obscured in the darkness and Mr. Graves lit with one side of his face casting a dramatic shadow over the other.

“Come closer,” Mr. Graves murmured.

Credence stepped with light feet across onto the rich Persian carpet covering the floor of the master bedroom. Mr. Graves was a man who liked the finer things in life, that was apparent judging by the luxurious quarters he kept for himself. His bed, in the center of it all, was so large that Credence could feel himself unconsciously gravitating towards it.

As he neared, Mr. Graves swung his legs off the mattress. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he was able to pull the younger man close with ease once he was close enough to reach.

Mr. Graves held Credence’s slim hips, his thumbs massaging the crest of his pelvic bone through the fabric of his suit. His fingers moved up and worked the button on Credence’ jacket before letting the fabric slip to the floor. He pressed his face into Credence’s abdomen as his hands slid back and down over his thighs. His palms ran over the skin there, fingers caressing and squeezing the supple flesh where Credence’s thighs met.

His grip dragged Credence forward, forcing him to place one knee onto the bed and then the other. Slowly, Credence lowered himself down onto Mr. Graves’ lap. Wrapping his arms around the man’s broad shoulders, he let his fingers trail over that loose silken shirt.

Mr. Graves did the same. His hands ran up and down Credence’s back before again dipping low to knead the supple curve of his ass.

“You know... Credence, if you change your mind–“

Credence stopped him, just as Mr. Graves hoped he would. With hands clasped around the mans neck, palms cupping his jaw, Credence tilted the older man’s head up to meet his lips in a fervid kiss. Their mouths opened, wet and wanting, fuelled by the heat burning between them. Inside, deep in his core, Credence could feel a fire raging as his lust sparked its flame.

All the rules were broken. There would be no propriety in these quarters, not until the night’s darkness passed and the sun shed its light on their satiated bodies.

Absorbed in their kiss, Mr. Graves embraced Credence fully, wrapping his arms around that lithesome figure he so loved before rolling them both down onto the bed. He pressed Credence into the mattress with the ferocity of his passion, kissing him deep and letting him feel the heady weight of a virile body over him.

Credence pulled at Mr. Graves’ shirt, trying to grasp at his bare shoulders beneath as they kissed. His hands settled on the straining line of Mr. Graves’ neck as the man unbuttoned his shirt.

Mr. Graves worked with deft fingers until the end when he tugged the tails of shirt from where they were tucked into his trousers and the last button snapped off in his haste. He paid it little mind and simply tore off the shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed.

Credence’s eyes were wide as he gazed upon the expanse of masculine flesh exposed to him. Mr. Graves was a well built man, muscled with dark hair lining the breadth of his chest. The sight of his bulk, the idea of the man using it to press him down into the bed, to have his way with him, it all had Credence shivering hot with wickedly luscious thoughts.

Mr. Graves took note of the veneration in his dark eyes and smiled like a rogue.

“Credence, have you not been with a man before?”

“I have not... not really... there were boys in university but–” Credence replied with the loveliest of flushes across his shallow cheeks. “You will be the first... Percival.”

The older man let out a low groan. Pressing his forehead to Credence’s he whispered: “I will be gentle.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he tore at Credence’s black suit. His haste left rips in the cheap, worn fabric and a titillated gasp rose from the young man below him.

“Percival!”

“You will have a whole new wardrobe coming within the week,” Mr. Graves chuckled as the jacket and shirt fell away leaving only Credence’s unfitting black trousers which were easily dragged down off his thighs, over his long pale legs and tossed away. “Let us never see this drab little outfit again.”

Credence let out a series of short pleasured cries and moans as Mr. Graves stripped him. The man’s lips caressed every inch of skin as he laid it bare. His mouth moved, sucking and nipping at Credence’s skin, gentle so as not to mark the unsullied canvas of his young body.

As Mr. Graves’s tongue licked a long flat line over one nipple, Credence dug his fingers into the man’s hair, long since fallen into complete disarray. The sensations, the pleasure, the heat, it all had him gasping, thrusting his naked hips up against the man’s clothed thigh, rubbing his aching cock against the dark fabric, not caring about the mess he was going to make of Mr. Graves’ suit for the second time that day.

Credence reached down, pressing his hand against the thick length that was still constrained within Mr. Graves trousers, drawing a tight moan from back of the other man’s throat. Credence held him through the fabric, rubbing along the bulge of his cock. Tracing the shape of it, he wondered how it would feel to have it inside of him, thrusting deep and hard into the heat of his body.

“Please,” Credence whispered into Mr. Graves’ ear as he came to kiss up his neck, along his jaw.

“What is it that you want, Credence?” Mr. Graves teased. He wanted to hear Credence say it. For his own pleasure, he wanted to hear those words.

“I want you.”

The older man hummed. He leaned back and knelt high above Credence’s arching body. With deliberate delay, he reached down to the buttons of his trousers, opening the flap and letting his cock curve up from beneath the cloth of his pants.

Mr. Graves stroked his thick length with one hand, letting the other drag over Credence’s heaving chest. He enjoyed the sight of Credence sprawled out on his bed. The pale expanse of Credence’s skin was spotted with the most delightfully red blush as his blood burned up through him.

Mr. Graves let his hand hand traveled up Credence’s body until his palm cupped his chin. Credence’ lips parted as he ran his thumb over the reddened, kiss-bruised flesh. That rough digit ran back and fourth over Credence’s tongue until his mouth was so wet he had to close his lips just to swallow, sucking Mr. Graves’ thumb with a pleasured hum as he did.

With a pleased moan, Mr. Graves removed his thumb and replaced it with two fingers.

“Wet them for me, darling.”

Credence did, drooling around the digits as they past slickly in and out between his lips. His head bobbed off the pillow as Mr. Graves fucked his mouth with those fingers.

Mr. Graves’ hand moved over his own cock and Credence’s too. He wrapped them both in one large fist, drawing their lengths together until they were dripping from the stimulation.

Credence was panting when Mr. Graves finally pulled his fingers way. He licked his lips at the loss, but Mr. Graves was quick to keep his mouth occupied with a kiss.

Thick fingers delved down between Credence’s legs, dipping between his cheeks, following the smooth line of his taint back to his untried hole. Already, pleasure was ripping through Credence from that place, he could feel it low in his belly. As soon as Mr. Graves touched him there, pressing just the tip of a finger inside, a heavenly sensation flared within Credence.

“Ah!” A ragged breath escaped his lips as he broke their kiss.

Mr. Graves recaptured his lips and pressed into him, consuming Credence’s loud gasps, keeping them for himself, not to be overheard by the rest of the household.

Credence was his and his alone that night. He would impart everything to his lord that night, his pleasure and his love. Everything.

Credence tore away to breath, gasping into Mr. Graves neck, biting down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. He clutched the man as he rolled to one side to better fuck into Credence with his raw digits.

Credence wrapped a leg over Mr. Graves’ muscled thighs, using them as leverage to thrust down into that hand. He pressed one hand to the headboard and threw his head back, pressing his crown into the pillows, baring his neck for Mr. Graves interested tongue.

“Reach for the oil. There on the dresser,” Mr. Graves whispered hot against his skin.

Credence’s eyes blinked open, glazed with pleasure. He searched for the oil which sat in a small a glass jar on the dresser. He almost giggled.

“Did you fetch this in sole anticipation for this night?” Credence whispered, his voice lilted with an amused tease.

Mr. Graves grinned against his neck and replied, “And for the many nights to come.”

Credence flushed beautifully at that before turning away to reach for the jar. He opened it and dipped his fingers into the slick.

The oil dripped down over his wrist, so he was quick to replace the jar and use the oil where it was needed.

Mr. Graves’s fingers stilled within Credence. He let out a heavy sigh as Credence’s hand came to wrapped around the aching length of his cock, massaging the slick oil over him in long masterful strokes.

“Ah,” the man grunted as that soft grip pulled him closer to the edge of bliss. He thrust into the younger man’s hand and drove his fingers in deeper to reciprocate the pleasure.

“Credence, you know not what you do to me.”

“Let me feel it then.”

There was no stopping the wave of anticipation that rolled through them both then.

Mr. Graves peeled himself away, detangling them as he moved back, back between Credence’s legs as they spread wide to accommodate. Those pale thighs trembled under large palms, not from fear. So eager was Credence that every fibre of his being thrummed for Mr. Graves.

And the man knew. He knew so well as he ran his hands from Credence’s knees down between his inner thighs again and again. He smoothed over those milky legs with one hand as his other transferred to his cock.

He pressed just the tip against Credence’s ready entrance and thrust. Time and time again he pressed, letting the sticky dead slide through the oil, but he never thrust hard enough, not hard enough, not enough.

He let his cock kiss Credence’s hole, watching the small pucker squeeze as if trying to capture him each time. He let the obscene wet sounds of oil and saliva flood the room. Quiet as it was, the sounds became deafening.

“Please, Percival, don’t tease. It’s too much!” Credence gasped, cupping his own aching cock in one hand to stave off the passion burning up from his hole. He wanted Mr. Graves inside him first. He wanted to feel everything.

Mr. Graves paused then, with the head of his cock tapping just outside Credence with each heart beat. He took it in hand and used his thumb to slowly, ever so slowly, press it in, stretching Credence wide as he slipped inside. The sharp exhale from Credence as soon as the tip slid past his furled muscle sent a shiver through Mr. Graves entire body.

“Yes.”

It was one word. One word whispered from those beautiful reddened lips that set him off. He pressed his hips forward hoping to draw out more.

It was no challenge.

Credence gasped out a string of unintelligible utterances as he rocked his hips back on the heavy length of flesh that pierced his core over and over. Mr. Graves’ cock was oil poured on the fire already burning within him, sliding thick through the smoke and flames. Credence was certain by the end the blaze would take him, body and soul, until he was little more than a glitter of ash and dust in the air.

No longer the father or the master of a great house, Mr. Graves... Percival, was an animal in bed.

His hips moved between Credence’s legs, thrusting hard and fast with little consequence given to the delicate young man gasping below him. The beast within him, ever caged by the genteel society in which they resided, was let out to play. It consumed pleasure and thrived on the moans drawn from beating its wild cock into lustful young flesh.

Driven by the carnal spirits within them, both Credence and Mr. Graves clung to each other’s bodies, thrusting harder and faster, riding the thick waves of pleasure as they washed over and lapped at their sweating, overheated bodies.

Mr. Graves moved his hands from Credence’s hips to press into the pillow just above his slender shoulders. He dropped to his elbows, pressing his body down onto Credence as his thrusts sped up. Long and hard pulls of his cock turned into short, sharp jabs that had Credence clawing at his back and wrapping his smooth legs around to dig his heels into Mr. Graves’ pistoning hips.

A scream that would have woken the entire household was silenced with a wet, sloppy kiss as Credence took the last thrust his body could bare. That cock pressing again and again against his deepest innermost pleasure centre sent him arching up.

His cock throbbed where it was squeezed between his abdomen and Mr. Graves’ as his body roared with pleasure. Credence gripped the curve of Mr. Graves’ thrusting rear, stilling him, holding him deep inside. His hot release came deep making Credence shiver as his blood pulsed heavily through his veins, pounding in his ears.

They lay panting, their bodies and breaths mingling in the aftermath.

Mr. Graves held himself over Credence, their lips hovering bare inches apart, too intoxicated to kiss. Slowly, his cock slipped from inside, his heavy release following behind in a steady stream from Credence’s slick hole.

Sighing, Credence trailed his hands over the broad sweat matted expanse of Mr. Graves’ chest and reached down between his legs. He caressed the swollen length of the man’s spent cock before dipping down into mess that had been made of him below it.

Mr. Graves watched Credence gently finger himself for a long while until they both looked up and their eyes met once.

They kissed chastely, then again less so and very soon blissful weariness seemed to pass and they were again driven to abandonment.

“I should return to my room.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Credence felt Mr. Graves’ grip on his body tighten.

“Stay,” The man husked, his voice raspy from sex. “Until morning. You can wake early and tiptoe out before the staff start filling the halls.”

“Alright.” Credence smiled. Arching in the man’s arms, Credence leaned forward and kissed Mr. Graves’ lips, moaning softly when the man leaned forward to deepen it.

He could stay the night, tucked up against Mr. Graves’ warm body, wrapped in his loving arms.

He could stay the night. No one would ever know.

•:۞:•

“Credence?”

The dawn light had barely peaked over the crest of the horizon when Credence stepped out of the master bedroom and into the hall. Yet, as he spun around, he found that he was not the lone early riser in this household.

It seemed the sun was quick to shed its light on impropriety that morning.

He should have known. Of course, Tina would already be up and about. She was thee keeper of the house, after all: first to rise and last to bed.

Tina stood stark still at the other end of the hall having just come up the stair. Here wide eyes narrowed, taking in the sight before her.

Credence was flushed and dishevelled. His clothes were all done up, but wrinkled. They hung off him in a way that somehow suggested that they’d been recently moved completely out of place before being haphazardly put back together.

“What are you doing in his Lordship’s–“ Tina paused. As she got a little closer, she cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you ill? Your lips are so red...”

Credence unconsciously pinched his lips between his teeth, hiding them as soon as she spoke. He stood with his head bowed low, hands clasped behind his back, looking like Oliver when found guilty of stealing a biscuit before tea.

“Credence,” Tine drawled, slow and deathly stern. “Were you– were you with Mr. Graves all night?”

Credence looked up before his gaze flashed back down towards the floor. He did not answer, but he knew that his silence was answer enough.

“Are you utterly depraved?” she intoned in a voice that reminded him far too much of sister Mary Lou. “Credence, how could you?”

Credence shuddered and immediately felt his body curving in on itself protectively with the memory of the beatings the nuns used to give him when he stepped out of line. There was something about raising any woman’s ire that still made him expect violent punishment, even though he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

He wasn’t at the orphanage anymore. Sister Mary Lou was dead.

The worst thing now wasn’t punishment or forced penance. No. The worst thing was the look of utter disappoint on Tina’s face as she confronted him in that empty hall.

“I’m sorry,” Credence whispered, his voice weak and childlike.

As soon as she heard this, Tina let her expression soften. She knew. Of course she knew.

Letting out a deep calming breath, she ushered Credence down the hall towards the side with the empty guest rooms where the wouldn’t be overheard.

“You’re supposed to be smarter than this, Credence,” Tina said.

“I’m sorry. I know. But...” Credence felt his cheeks heat and he bit his lip. “I wanted to.”

Tina grit her teeth, trying so hard not to let her fury rise to the surface. “Don’t you know the implications! The impropriety of it all! This is almost exactly what happened to Newt with that Lestrange woman.”

Tina shook her head at the memory of it. “I won’t relive that! Not with you! Not with the master of this house!”

Credence blinked. He’d wondered for so long about Newt and Miss Lestrange. No one had ever said a word about it apart from ‘scandal’.

“Whatever did happen between them?” he asked.

Tina seemed to jolt. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as her gaze flittered about wild with anxiety.

Eventually, she rubbed her sweating palms on her matronly dress and let out a shaky breath. “She... she seduced Newt. I know he loved her, or perhaps... he would have grown to love her, but Leta Lestrange had no intention of being with him. And how could she?” Tina shook her head, staring up towards the ceiling with tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“She is an heiress and he– he works in the stables. He is kind and doting. She took advantage of him and he was almost removed from the household because of it. If that had happened, I–”

Tina stopped talking, choked up by her own words and the vivid memory of the scene. She pressed her knuckles to her lips and cleared her throat.

“Tina.” Credence whispered. “Do you– are you in love with Mr. Scamander?”

Tina looked up at him with a look Credence had never see in her eye before. Her ambivalence shifted between embarrassment, resignation and anger all at once.

“Don’t try and make this about me,” she snapped, through the red in her cheeks took much of the bite out of her words. “This is about you and Master Graves. That sort of... involvement. It’s doomed from the start. If you’re not careful, you’ll be out of the job and you’ll never see young master Oliver again. That boy loves you, Credence. Think of how your dismissal would hurt him.”

Her words stung, as did every truth they implied, but Credence held firm.

“This is different,” he said without hesitation. “Lord Graves. He’s different. And... and even things soured between us, he would never do anything to hurt Oliver and he would never hurt me either.”

Despite his surety, Tina seemed unconvinced. She stared right back at him with a firm gaze of her own, but eventually she let him go with a heavy sigh.

“Credence, even if you say that... it’s–” Tina stopped, shook her head and gave up. She reached out and gripped Credence’s hand in hers, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Be careful,” were her final relenting words on the subject.

Credence squeezed her hand right back and smiled.

“I will.”

With a sharp nod, Tina turned on her heel and marched from the hall.

That exchange definitely didn’t signal the approval that Credence had dared to hope he’d receive from his wonderful benefactor, but he knew that everything would be alright. And if it wasn’t, well, at least it would be a fine night to remember.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments were very quiet and save Mr. Graves and Credence from having to answer an array of awkward questions about the noises Oliver heard last night.
> 
> Your kudos send Credence back into Mr. Graves’ rooms for a bit of morning sex. ;)


	8. Something blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver goes away to his aunt's for the weekend, just in time for the arrival of Credence's new wardrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH ANOTHER BUSY FEW WEEKS! I lied... But I’m BACK! And my proposal was accepted for my personal project so YAY! I'll have to finish that now ( ; A ; ) much work to do!
> 
> Anyway This chapter is pretty much just PORN... this and chapter 9 were supposed to be one chapter, but I realized that:
> 
> a) That chapter would be way too fucking long  
> and  
> b) HOLY SHIT PEOPLE WANT ME TO UPDATE LIKE YESTERDAY
> 
> Anyway, no one is here for my rants... most of you are here for porn... I read your comments... 
> 
> ENJOY!

•:۞:•

Credence was wary of the rest of the house staff as he crossed the hall to wake Oliver the next morning. He helped the boy get dressed and took him down to breakfast as usual. As they made their way to the dining room, Credence found himself scanning the faces of every member of staff despite the fact that Tina had left him on fairly good terms.

After she discovered him leaving My. Graves’ bedroom, Credence had a sense that Tina would spare him the shame that the last governess had been subjected to, but he did not know if his sense was to be trusted.

Gossip in polite society always travelled like rainclouds in the spring, quickly and far too often.

Had Tina already spread rumours through the staff? Did anyone else already know beforehand? Perhaps Queenie? She was always so eerily clairvoyant about such things.

Tina past Credence and Oliver on her way back to the kitchen from the dining hall. She offered an immaculate smile and good morning, as if it was the first time she’d seen him that day. It seemed, for the time being at least, she would keep mum about what she’d witnessed the night before.

Credence nodded to her, a blush staining his cheeks when he received a sharp knowing glance in return.

They reached the dining room and Credence was just finished getting Oliver all good and tucked into his breakfast when Mr. Graves entered. There was a certain lightness to the man’s step that morning, already Credence could see a footman whispering about it to the butler.

Mr. Graves immediately caught sight of the young man standing behind his son’s chair and smiled.

“Good morning, Credence.”

Credence jumped, alarmed at the sensation of a hand softly pressed along the small of his back as Mr. Graves passed. The heat of that palm had him arching and a thought that was completely unsuitable for the breakfast table passed through his mind.

“G–good morning, Mr. Graves,” he stuttered.

“What about me, daddy!?” Oliver cried out. Biting his bottom lip, he stared up at his father with wide glassy black eyes, waiting for his good morning.

Mr. Graves merely chuckled. “Good morning to you too, Ollie,” he said as he leaned down, brushing away a messy black fringe to press a kiss to his son’s forehead.

Satisfied with that, Oliver beamed. His little face squished into a smile.

Credence left the two of them to take up his own seat across the table. Spreading his napkin over his lap, he folded his hands as Mr. Graves’ said grace. As sanctified as his words were, Credence couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through him as Mr. Graves intoned the blessing in that low even voice of his.

As soon as the man was finished, Credence reached across the table and took a long sip of tea.

“Oliver,” Mr. Graves began as he started to fill his plate, “your aunt Seraphina has invited you to stay with her overnight this Thursday.”

“Yay!” Oliver clapped his hands together, clanging his fork and knife in a grating rhythm. “Will I be back in time for the party this weekend.”

Credence stopped chewing and shifted his gaze towards Mr. Graves. He cocked his head to one side, but the man was too focused on his son to notice his curiosity.

“Of course!” Mr. Graves answered with a smile. “You’ll come along with your aunt on Saturday.”

Again, Oliver cheered. As he continued eating, he chattered away excitedly about the party: how he’d dance, who he’d dance with, what he’d wear.

After breakfast they took a turn about the garden. It was a fine sunny day, so Credence decided they could once more start their day off outside and enjoy the weather while it lasted. There was no harm in missing a few hours of lessons. Besides, it was astonishing how much more attentive Oliver could be when he was allowed to release some of his energy every now and again.

Mr. Graves joined them, of course. He did not deign to work through such a beautiful morning. While his son played in the maze of hedges and frolicked around the flowerbeds, he walked the paths with Credence.

“What’s this I hear about a party?” Credence asked, eyeing Mr. Graves curiously from beneath the showdown of his dark lashes.

Graves let out a short hum and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Woolworth Manor is hosting a ball on the weekend.” He frowned. “Had I not mentioned?”

Credence let out an amused huff. “No, you had not.”

“Damn. I must have been entirely too distracted.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Credence replied. His voice was a lush whisper as he stared up into Mr. Graves’ eyes with a hooded gaze. A slow smile curled his lips, but there was a hesitance there, still worried the other staff might see.

Mr. Graves cared far less. He stared, lost in Credence’s gaze for a long while until Oliver ran by noisily passing on his way into the centre of the garden’s labyrinth of hedges.

After chuckling at his son’s antics, Mr. Grave cleared his throat. “The party isn’t exactly coming at my behest. Honestly, my sister-in-law arranged all of it. She is keen to see me make use of the house’s ball room and gardens.”

“Does Lady Picquery not have lavish ballroom of her own at the estate across the way?” Credence asked. It took a lot to keep from rolling his eyes.

Mr. Graves noticed and pursed his lips. He leaned in a tad closer to murmur, “Not so lavish as mine.” His voice was smug and yet hushed to stifle the brag.

Credence leaned into him, bumping their shoulders together as they continued down the path.

•:۞:•

Early on Thursday afternoon, Lady Seraphina Piquery came for tea. Credence was not privy to the event, but Mr. Graves informed him that it was trivial as things often were with his sister-in-law. They briefly chattered about Seraphina’s recent holiday in France before she whisked Oliver away for the weekend. The boy would return with Seraphina and her party for the party at Woolworth on Saturday.

The evening that followed Oliver’s departure was pure bliss.

The manor was quiet. Most of the staff had been given the Easter holiday off since they’d be extraordinarily busy on the weekend. The lack of maids and footmen left the halls relatively empty.

With any remaining live-in staff safely down in their quarters in the lower part of the house, Credence had little worries about being as loud as he liked as he rode Mr. Graves’ cock to sweet oblivion.

The next day, Credence’s new wardrobe arrived with the morning paper.

There wasn’t a footman to be found when the delivery driver came with the heaping packages of clothing, it was up to Mr. Graves to attend to the bundles. He carried nearly wrapped parcels up to his own room and called for Credence to join him.

Credence walked into the master bedroom, dressed only lightly in a loose shirt and trousers. His eyes blew wide when he saw Mr. Graves’ bed covered with near paper-wrapped parcels.

The Lord turned to him as he entered. A smirk twisting his lips when he noted Credence’s shock and awe.

“Would you like to open your gifts?”

“Gifts? Are these– No,” Credence gasped. “I though you’d purchased just one or two suits for each season, summer and fall!”

Mr. Graves chuckled. “As I recall, I said a few in each colour. Nevertheless. I would have you try them on.”

“Now,” Credence asked through he was already closing the door behind him.

An affirmative rumble sounded from deep in Mr. Graves chest. “Yes. Something light. The suit there, eggshell with the navy blue coat.”

Credence looked over the vestments laid out over Mr. Graves’ bed. He made a soft ‘Ah!’ as he picked the particular clothes Mr. Graves’ had asked for out from the array spread before him.

Credence held the blue coat up first, pressing it against his body with a delighted sigh. “I can already tell it will suit me so well. You have such a fine eye for colour and fashion, Mr. Graves. It simply isn’t fair.”

The Lord’s only response was a knowing chuckle before he sat back a chair near the bed and nodded.

“Go on then.”

“What?” Credence held the coat tighter to his chest, feigning a look of utter confusion and innocence, but Mr. Graves knew better. “Try it on? Right here? You would have me strip bare before you?”

“I would,” Mr. Graves replied without a moment’s hesitation.

Credence bit his lip before wetting it gently. “Very well, my Lord.”

He was playing a game. At first he wasn’t quite sure if Mr. Graves would share his interest, it soon became apparent that the older man very much did. His eyes darkened, the blacks swelling as he watched Credence start to unbutton his loose shirt. The fabric slipped slowly from his shoulders, revealing the pale expanse of his torso, still pink in places Mr. Graves’ lips and hands had traced the night before.

“Which suit did you want me in again, My Lord?” Credence whispered. His fingers slowly worked on the buttons of his trousers as he met the Lord’s hungry gaze. He let the fabric fall to gather in a pile at his ankles before kicking it off to one side.

Mr. Graves swallowed, his eyes raking up and down Credence’s gorgeously slim naked body.

“My Lord?”

Mr. Graves cleared his throat before answering, “The blue.”

Credence turned and, with a hesitance that showed he was still affecting naivety, he picked the navy-blue jacket up off the bed. With his back to Mr. Graves, he slipped his arms one at a time through the soft fabric of the sleeves. Then, as he turned, he wrapped it around his naked body.

“Just the jacket? Are you sure, my Lord?”

Mr. Graves growled. “Come here.”

He ushered Credence towards him, curling one finger to invite the younger man closer. As soon as Credence was within his grasp, he curled his hands around that pale waist and pulled him in close, nearly pressing his chin to the folds where Credence held the coat together.

Mr. Graves looked up at him and murmured, “You mustn't tease. It's ever so cruel.”

“I’m so terribly sorry, my Lord,” Credence drawled. Ever so slowly, he climbed into Mr. Graves’ lap, relishing the deep groan he drew from the man as his body settled down. He was still hugging the coat around himself, covering his modesty, but the heat of his naked rear was evident even through the fabric of Mr. Graves’ trousers.

“Is that better?” Credence whispered into the man’s ear before leaning back. He let go of the coat, allowing the fabric to slide open ever so slowly.

Mr. Graves sucked in a breath. His head dipped to watch as Credence’s body was revealed to him once more, but a moment later, Credence touched his head and tilted his head back upwards.

“Does the new coat suit me, my Lord?” Credence asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Mr. Graves didn’t answer, but he pulled Credence in for a deep kiss. Swallowing down the gasp Credence let out in his surprise, Mr. Graves ravaged the younger man’s lips.

“Percival,” Credence panted, tearing their lips apart as he felt Mr. Graves’ hand run beneath the coat. Those large, deft digits caressed down from Credence’s tailbone, tracing that line to dip between the soft curve of his cheeks.

“You’re too much,” Credence whispered just as Mr. Graves traced his entrance, still wet and sensitive from the night before.

The man only chuckled in response. He rolled his hips slightly, drawing yet another gasp from Credence. The length of his cock was straining through his trousers, eager to sink into the tight warmth of the young body above.

“It isn’t so fun when you’re on the other end of things, is it?” Mr. Graves spoke directly into Credence’s ear before pressing kisses there and trailing them all down his neck to where the coat had parted. The navy fabric lay Credence bare from his neck to his thighs where his aching arousal curved up towards Mr. Graves, red and needy.

“Please.”

Without a word, Mr. Graves hooked an arm around Credence’s right and used it to spin him around, turning Credence so that his back was pressed to Mr. Graves’ broad chest.

Leaning back further in his chair, Mr. Graves held the warm body against his. His large hands came around to stroke up and down Credence’s thighs. Parting them, he allowed the younger man’s legs hook outside his knees.

Credence was spread, laid bare and exposed. The pale strip of his body was obscene in contrast with the luminous blue that framed it. He ran his hands down his chest, satiating his need for touch before reaching lower to caress the ache between his legs, but Mr. Graves snatched is hand away.

“Not yet,” the Lord murmured, pressing a kiss to the long, pale line of Credence’s neck.

Mr. Graves places Credence’s hands on his chest. He led Credence to move them and stroke his palms over the hardening buds of his nipples. Mr. Graves’ hands eventually left, but Credence continued plucking at the sensitive nubs as he’d been instructed.

As Mr. Graves returned his attention to Credence’s thighs, the younger man bit his lip, holding back moans and whimpers.

“Let me hear your passion, Credence,” Mr. Graves commanded as his hands slipped closer and closer to Credence’s pleasure centre. His fingers traveled along the line of Credence’s hips, following the angle of his pelvis down between his legs.

Credence was biting his fist, holding back the sounds that were so very keen on breaking loose from inside him.

“It is the middle of the day, I cannot! What if someone were to hear us?” he whispered, glancing towards the door. He’d already told Mr. Graves about Tina, though the man seemed nonplussed and confused as to why it worried Credence so much.

Mr. Graves trusted his staff, he knew non of them would betray him, even with his peculiar appetites. However, that didn’t mean he wanted them to hear his young lover’s ardour. No, those sounds were for the Lord of the house only.

“They’ve all gone for the holiday, Credence,” Mr. Graves murmured into his ear as he fingered the over sensitized skin between Credence’s hole and his needful cock.

“It’s just you and I. Now moan for me.”

Credence couldn’t help himself. As soon as Mr. Graves sunk a rough finger inside his ready entrance, he let out a breathless cry.

“Ah! Percival, I–“ Words escaped him. The finger inside him was moving, in and out, penetrating him just enough to draw pleasure, but not enough to push him over the edge. That was a task left to Mr. Graves’ most talented fist as it closed tight around his aching cock.

The stuttering gasps that jittered from Credence’s lungs were music to Mr. Graves’ ears. He drew his fist up and down the younger man’s length, so tight and slow that Credence was left a shuddering mess of pleasure. Heat built up within him, too soon to burst.

“That’s it,” Mr. Graves whispered, lips moving against the shell of Credence’s ear. His hot breath sent flaring heat all along the younger man’s neck and face.

Credence came with a loud cry, painting his chest and Mr. Graves hand with the sweet release of his pleasure. His head lolled back onto the man’s broad shoulder, his neck left perfectly presented for Mr. Graves’ devilish lips and tongue.

“Oh, you’re too good to me, my Lord,” Credence groaned out, slipping back into that innocently sluttish character they had both just so recently come to adore.

Mr. Graves hummed as he trailed his fingers through the mess splattered across Credence’s heaving belly.

“Am I to be rewarded for my generosity?” he asked in between kisses pressed to the long line of the younger man’s neck.

Credence turned his head slightly, his eyes glancing to catch the smirk twisting handsomely in the corner of Mr. Graves’ lips. He licked his own before leaning in to press them to the older man’s jawline.

“Anything for you, my Lord.”

Gracefully as he could with his knees still wobbly from orgasm, Credence slipped out of Mr. Graves’ lap and kneeled on the floor. He placed one hands on Mr. Graves’ knee, then the other before spreading the man’s legs wide and moving in between them like an animal on the prowl.

Mr. Graves sunk into his seat, one hand covering his mouth as he let out a low groan. Credence was quite a pretty sight on his knees, still flush and relaxed from his climax. Gone was the anxious stiffness with which Credence usually carried himself. His hands moved with elegance as they smoothed up Mr. Graves’ thick muscled thighs.

The older man’s cock was hard beneath his trousers, a stiff outline pressing up against the black fabric.

Credence leaned forward. With his hands now on Mr. Graves’ flat stomach, he let his mouth trail in their set path. He pressed kiss all the way up from knee to burgeoning cock.

A deep rumbled rolled from Mr. Graves’ chest as Credence mouthed the his length through his trousers. He could feel moist breath wetting the fabric as heat seeped through to the already overheated skin beneath.

Credence laved at Mr. Graves with the flat, wide press of his tongue, all to keen on ruining yet another of the man’s fine suits. Perhaps next time they returned to the tailor’s it would be for Mr. Graves’ fitting.

Credence pressed his mouth to the bulge of the man’s cock, moaning at the thought of taking Mr. Graves into his mouth while the man stood naked before a long mirror. As the tailor measured him, both men would be so nonchalant while Mr. Graves’ used Credence’s mouth for his indecent pleasure.

“Credence...” Mr. Graves’ voice was rough, practically animal as he growled out his name.

Credence looked up through his lashes. The sight of Mr. Graves with his head hanging heavy, eye closed with pleasure, had Credence moaning softly against the length in his mouth.

The tease had run its course, Credence decided. He pulled back and allowed his fingers room to work, deftly pulling the buttons open along one side of the front fold of Mr. Graves’ trousers. His heavy cock curved up from the loosened fabric before Credence had a chance to properly pull it away.

Mr. Graves’ apparent need was desperate, the thick length of him red and wanting.

“Credence,” the man said again, his voice softer this time.

A hand came down, fingers tangling in Credence’s hair.

“Please.”

Looking up into Mr. Graves’ heavy lidded eyes, Credence knew what the man wanted. He’d never taken a man in his mouth before, but he knew enough to know what Mr. Graves wanted.

Leaning forward, he pressed his tongue along the heated length of Mr. Graves’ cock. A long swipe towards the head had the man loosing control of his hips, thrusting towards Credence, his head tapping at a blushing cheek.

“You’ll choke me, if you’re not careful, my Lord.”

“Yes,” Mr. Graves hissed as, finally, Credence took him into his mouth.

Credence sucked just the head of his cock. The deliciously wet drag of his tongue and lips drew the most amazing sounds from Mr. Graves who was rather unafraid to let his voice be heard. His guttural moans only fuelled Credence to take him deeper, move his mouth faster. Before long, his head was bobbing in Mr. Graves’ lap.

Credence imagined himself a practiced rent boy, sucking men’s cocks in alleyways for a shilling a piece. If that were his life, Mr. Graves would have been his favourite customer. Such a handsome cock he had.

The man’s grip tightened in Credence’s hair, pulling him down until his cock hit the back of Credence’s throat. Nearly choking him. Adding to his dark fantasy.

He looked up at Mr. Graves’, his wet, black eyes catching the man’s gaze. He made quite the pretty picture with his lips stretched obscenely around the girth of his Lord’s cock. It was enough to set any man’s passion on fire.

“Credence, I must–“ Mr. Graves could barely speak as his mounting pleasure took over. All of his faculties were crushed by weight of his desire.

“Best not make a mess, my Lord. Do it in my mouth,” Credence pulled back for the barest of moments to whisper, before pressing Mr. Graves once more to his tongue. He took the wet, leaking head between his lips and let his fingers trailed down over the shaft until they could stroke the heavy sacs below.

A sudden pull from inside that creased skin almost startled Credence. Mr. Graves jerked his hips and, suddenly, Credence's mouth was filled. Pulse after pulse of hot release streaked across his tongue while, above him, Mr. Graves let out a final loud moan.

The hand fisted in Credence’s hair slowly loosened up and fingers went from gripping to carding through luscious black strands. Mr. Graves gently pet Credence as his cock kept warm between the younger man’s lips. They stayed like that until the man's hard length grew soft and fell from between swollen red lips. 

Credence swallowed carefully. He could not say he enjoyed the bitter flavour on his tongue, but he suspected it was worth it to see Mr. Graves so utterly undone... and it was all his doing.

Replete with a sense of pride, Credence touched the corners of his lips, dragging his digits through the last of Mr. Graves’ spend and licking it from his fingertips before crawling nimbly back up into Mr. Graves’ lap. He wrapped his arms around the exhausted older man’s neck, pressing wet kisses to his lips, neck and jaw.

“You know,” Credence said quietly, “with all this distraction, you still need to help me pick out an outfit for the party tomorrow evening.”

With his eyes still closed, blissed out from the morning’s play, Mr. Graves chuckled.

“I want you in that blue coat again. That’s for certain.”

Credence wrapped his arms around the man, laughing. He sat a while longer, enjoying the sensation of post-pleasure inebriation wrapped up in Mr. Graves’ strong arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments cast knowing glances across the ballroom all night during the party tomorrow
> 
> Your kudos attend the party and notice a peculiar stain on the cuff of that fancy blue coat


	9. Do you dance, Mr. Graves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took me so long. I haven’t had a day of free time in so long... ugh... but I finally was able to work on finishing up this chapter! It’s also a long one and basically the grand finale before the happy ending that will be the Epilogue. <3
> 
> (Todays test is to see how many vaguely guised Pride and Prejudice references I can fit into one chapter. XD ) 
> 
> ENJOY~

•:۞:•

The entire house was in a rush getting ready for the party. The staff darted between the halls and chambers like particularly shy mice skittering about for scraps. There was so much to do in preparation for the grand ball they would be hosting.

Lady Seraphina had planned everything to a tee. Her servants were on site in her stead, decorating the halls of Woolworth. They pattered around Mr. Graves’ house, helping his staff prepare for the grand evening ahead of them. Many were friends from the villages pleased to be working together, but many more were as haughty as the woman they worked for.

The ballroom had to be swept and dusted, the guest quarters had to be arranged, the gardens needed to be trimmed and torches set up so the guests could feel free to venture outside as it grew dark in the evening. And that was just the work for the maids and footmen.

Jacob was swamped in the kitchen with his cooks and the Picquery house chefs. There was a feast of finger foods to prepare and an entire menu of fine deserts for pudding. They had started cooking before first light and likely wouldn’t be done until the first guests arrived.

•:۞:•

Mr. Graves stared at himself in the mirror, straightening his cravat. He smiled at his own reflection, earning himself a little laugh from the young man lounging half dressed on the bed behind him.

“What are you giggling at?” he asked as his focus shifted, eyeing the Credence’s reflection.

Credence rolled onto his back, letting his head loll off the edge of the bed as he grinned.

“I’m just admiring you admiring yourself.”

Mr. Graves chuckled, but bit it off to affect a derisive side-eyed glance. “Aren’t you worried about Miss Tina catching you in here again?”

Credence huffed out a laugh. “I’ve nothing to worry about. Not today when they’re all far too busy dashing about down in the ballroom.”

Mr. Graves sauntered towards him with a self-satisfied smirk in place.

“Lucky me then,” he murmured, bending to press a kiss to Credence’s lip. “Now, why do you run along and get ready for the ball. I want you looking your best on my arm tonight.”

Credence smiled shyly, blushing from the man’s charming words even more than he was the kiss. It was obvious Mr. Graves was just teasing. What a scandal it would be, the Lord of the manor’s tutor – a man no less – hanging off his arm during a high society ball.

Credence rolled onto his side and hopped off the bed. On his way out, he paused near the door, turning back to Mr. Graves.

“I’ll be sure to wear the blue ensemble you were so fond, my Lord.”

Mr. Graves closed his eyes, humming to himself. He did very much have recent fond memories of that jacket.

“Nothing would please me more.”

•:۞:•

A footman opened the manor’s heavy front doors just as Mr. Graves descended the stairs with Credence a few steps behind, smiling at some tease the man had just made. They were both impeccably dressed, Mr. Graves in a dark-navy formal jacket with a white vest and matching, silk cravat while Credence was stunning similarly dressed and adorned in blue.

Through the open front door, Oliver skipped into the house ahead of his aunt, already dressed up for the ball. He wore a little blue suit with a yellow vest that matched his socks, pulled up to knee high meet his breeches.

“Ah! Daddy! Credence!” He squealed, running towards them as soon as they reached the landing.

Mr. Graves scooped his son up into his arms for a hug. “My Ollie,” he sighed. “Did you have a nice time with your Aunty Seraphina?”

Oliver tucked his head into his father’s shoulder, nodding vigorously. “Uh huh,” he replied before squirming out of the man’s hold. As soon as he was plopped back down onto the floor he rushed towards Credence, wrapping his arms around his waist for a hug.

“I missed you,” he said, much to Mr. Graves’ amusement and Credence’ utter embarrassment. And yet, he’d missed Oliver too. As much as he loved spending time alone with Mr. Graves, and he did so love his work tutoring the boy.

“Percival darling,” Seraphina greeted with a coquettish laugh, raising her hand for her brother-in-law to kiss as he greeted her. Her gown made it difficult to approach her. The silken indigo fabric of her dress was trimmed with silver and was lovely to look at, but the full, ruffled skirts were sure to keep most men at least one full step away.

Mr. Graves had to resist the urge to cringe.

Still, Seraphina looked wonderful. Dressed in the latest fashions, as always, she was sure to outshine the other women in attendance that night.

Taking her outstretched hand, Mr. Graves kissed it as any gentleman would. As he did, her fiancé, Mr. Langdon Shaw, cleared his throat loudly behind her.

“Good evening to you, Mr. Shaw,” He drawled as he straightened, trying his best to convey his annoyance through a sardonic smile. “I trust your carriage ride over with my sister-in-law was not made less... enjoyable by my son’s presence.”

There was no mistaking the implication in Mr. Graves’ words. Mr. Shaw spluttered for a moment, but he quickly covered it up with a try-hard smile.

“It was most enjoyable. Your boy is a perfect angel, My Lord.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Mr. Graves smiled back at him, a curve of the lips whose amusement didn’t quite reach his dark eyes.

“That boy has been crying over his tutor more than you. He missed young Credence’s little bedtime stories,” Seraphina tittered.

Oliver hugged Credence’s leg, glaring at his aunt with unconcealed distain.

“I wasn’t crying,” he muttered.

Credence simply patted his head and smiled as he mouthed, “I know.”

They kept up a polite track of conversation all the way through the corridors and into the ballroom. Seraphina breathed a sigh of relief that her brother-in-law hadn’t been his usual uptight self about his sanctified Manor house. She’d tried to have him host parties before, but the staff doing the preparations complained that Mr. Graves would hardly let them do their work, so concerned for his privacy and quiet life.

“I’m so glad you’ve not sent any of my staff running like the last time,” she chuckled, remembering the poor girl who’d run all the way back to Picquery house crying after she’d accidentally ventured into Mr. Graves’ study while he was at work.

“Indeed,” Mr. Graves replied curtly, rolling his eyes, not finding the memory anywhere near as amusing as Seraphina seemed to.

He was soon forced to adjourn. Other guests were arriving and he, as host, had the duty to greet them on their way into the ballroom.

Credence was left with Seraphina and her exasperating fiancé. As soon as Mr. Graves stepped out, they turned on him, their eyes positively brimming with furtive curiosity.

“That’s a fine coat, did my brother get it for you?” Seraphina asked. There was a peculiar note in her tone, something smooth and sly that left Credence feeling uneasy.

Thankfully, his little shield was present to save him.

“Oh!” Oliver cried out suddenly just as Seraphina had finished asking her question. “Credence! Look! Mr. Kowalski is upstairs!”

The man was indeed upstairs. On the far side of the ballroom a table of drinks and fine amuse-bouches. He was dressed in fine footman’s clothes, carrying a tray of little cakes and setting them out for the guests.

Excited to see the man upstairs, a place where the kitchen staff did not ordinarily venture, Oliver grabbed Credence’s hand and started dragging him over.

“Oh, do pardon us,” Credence said to the two others with a forced smile. Both Seraphina and Langdon frowned at his apparent rudeness, but before they could comment a well-dressed family entered the ballroom.

“Oh! If it isn’t the Picquery heiress herself!”

Seraphina turned to greet them with her most charming smile as they thanked her for the invitation.

Leaving the polite small-talk and coquettish laughter behind, Credence followed Oliver to the long buffet table. Oliver slowed as the arrived, hands clasped in front of him cutely as he stared up at Mr. Kowalski’s back.

“Good evening, Mr. Kowalski!” He said politely in a high-pitched voice.

The man turned, looking a bit surprised at first. As soon as he saw Oliver, a smile broke across his face.

“Hey! If it isn’t the little master of the house. Look at you in your fancy suit.”

“You’re one to talk,” Credence commented, looking Jacob up and down. “Has Seraphina’s party upset the running of the house so much that she’s got chefs playing footman?”

Jacob chuckled at that, while casting a nervous glance over Credence’s shoulder as said woman chatted with the barrage of newly arriving guests who were quickly filling the large room.

“Ah, a few of the gents out of town for the Easter holidays and everyone else had been working so hard. Since I finished all the cooking yesterday, I thought I could help out.”

“How kind of you.” Credence smiled. Jacob always had had the biggest heart.

Jacob brushed off the comment with a wave of his hand a little shrug. “I’m happy to help.”

“Mr. Kowalski?” Oliver said sweetly, his voice soft and smooth, obviously in preparation to ask for something he may be denied.

Jacob had heard this voice a thousand times when the young master came down to beg for cookies. He winked at Credence before crouching down to Oliver’s level.

“What can I do for you?” he replied.

Oliver bit his lips, swinging his hips from side to side as he stared down at the floor.

“Can I have one of the cakes you just brought out?” he asked, nodding gently towards the table.

Jacob made a point of breathing a dramatically unsure breath and looking back over his shoulder at the line of deserts.

“I don’t know, little master. Those cakes are for the party guests.”

“B- But I am a party guest!” Oliver protested with wide eyes. He looked back at Credence to confirm this.

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose you are,” Credence said with pursed lips and a thoughtful expression. He nodded to Jacob and Oliver turned back to see the man smiling wide.

“Oh jeez, I guess you are a guest, aren’t you! Well, in that case, here you go!” With that said, Jacob turned and plucked a cake up from the table and set it in Oliver’s palm.

“Thank you!”

Credence smiled and thanked Mr. Kowalski just before the man rushed out of the room, realizing that he’d probably overstayed and there was more food for him to bring up from the kitchens. The ballroom had since filled with guests and people were already heading towards the buffet table, hoping to partake of a few finger foods before the dancing started.

Credence moved Oliver out of the way, saying his polite hellos to all the unfamiliar faces as he went.

•:۞:•

As soon as he entered the room, Mr. Graves was swept up into a myriad of discussions with his fellow peers. He looked around for his son in the split second that he had between conversation. He saw Credence keeping Oliver entertained and smiled at the both of them before getting drawn into a yet another political debate regarding the work he’d been doing that week.

It seemed all of high society had made their way to Woolworth Manor for a fine night of finery and dance, not only those from the surrounding estates, but also people from the city itself. Many would be taking advantage of the extra rooms in the manor, but most would be accompanying Lady Picquery back across the valley to her stately home.

Though Credence was hoping to stay with at least one familiar face all night, his little shield, Oliver, was often swept up into quaint little dances by young society ladies. They simply found the Graves family heir too adorable to waltz away from.

With Oliver gone, Credence found himself swept up into the exchanges between groups of men who preferred talk and drink to dance. They stood about in circles, discussing the latest controversies. Learned as he was, Credence quickly realized that his opinions on class issues completely differed from the opinions of the higher breed.

“... and he may be our host, but I am not afraid to say I disagree with Mr. Graves’ leanings in the matter,” was the tail end of one discussion.

“Indeed. I entirely approve of Lord Grindelwald statement on the matter. Like him, I simply don’t understand why the lower classes are allowed to clog up rooms our hospitals.”

“Ban them, I say. If they can’t pay, they can’t stay.”

“Quite right.”

“Perhaps, the government should build more hospitals, rather than banning the poor?” Credence cut in, his tone flat and unerring. “Or perhaps doctors should be offered stipends to take on more charitable work in smaller villages? For are we not commanded by God to be open handed towards those without means? Carry each other’s burdens?”

Credence knew his bible like the back of his hand thanks to his religious upbringing and his interjection struck up quite a turn in the debate from men who realized that they’d just been accused of being ‘unchristian’. After quite a bit of scoffing and stuttering, their tone changed, becoming quite defensive.

As the night wore on, Oliver was eventually returned to his side. The boy pressed his face into Credence’s leg tired after a whirlwind of conversation and dance. Credence took it upon himself to take his young charge upstairs to his room.

He was so glad to get away for a moment.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Credence helped Oliver into his nightdress and tucked him into be as usual. Music from the party below hummed faintly through the air as they read a short story, but by the end Oliver was still too agitated to fall asleep.

“Credence, will daddy be in to say goodnight to me?” Oliver asked as Credence set the story book down.

“Oh,” Credence sighed, “No, Oliver. I’m almost certain you’ll be fast asleep by the time the party is over.”

“Alright,” Oliver whispered, looking down at his hands where they were folded on top of the bedcovers. He sniffed and fiddled with the sheets.

“Come now,” Credence tapped his chin, forcing his eyes up. “You’ll see him come morning. First thing. Before breakfast even.”

Oliver’s huge eyes lit up with delight. “Really?”

“I’ll make sure of it. Your daddy will be the first one you see come morning,” Credence promised with a sure smile in place.

Oliver hummed happily and snuggled into bed. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after that, with the promise of his father’s full attention the next day.

With the boy sound asleep, Credence returned to the party downstairs. It was jarring to return to it after the quiet of normality. The ball was now in full swing, one song having just come to an end with another soon to start.

The room was too warm and the eyes that set on Credence as he entered were full of judgement.

He moved through the guests, politely greeting some kind and familiar faces he’d recently met. Some smiled and others, like the political men he’d spoken to previously, narrowed their eyes.

Credence felt his cheeks heat. He needed air.

The doors of the ballroom opened to the outer courtyard, abating some of the heat. It was raining as it was wont to during a lush English spring. The patter of water droplets melded with the chamber orchestra’s rich melodies.

Credence stood near the open threshold letting the cool air that flowed from the outside calm his nerves. He watched the party from a distance behind a small group of women who were trying to hide that they were sweating beneath the heavy fabric of their gowns. They wafted themselves furiously with lace folding fans.

Suddenly, someone appeared to his left, immediately budding into Credence’s personal space.

“If it isn’t the tutor again!” Mr. Shaw’s slurred voice cut into Credence’s calm like a sharp smack from one of the nuns back at the orphanage. The man was nursing yet another half empty glass of white wine. He had been drinking since the night began, Credence noticed.

“Mr. Shaw,” he greeted carefully. “I was just getting some fresh air.”

“Yes, splendid, me to. I had to get away from the besotted violet cloud surrounding our host. It’s sickening, isn’t it? The way they dance around each other.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Credence replied, calmly, though he couldn’t help but let his eyes grow wide. Was Mr. Shaw speaking of Seraphina?

“Ha!” The man laughed. “Well, my fiancée has accused me of stepping on her toes all night. Now she’s off dancing with the most eligible widower in the room. Probably trying to start some new rumour no doubt. She does love to be the centre of gossip.”

Credence frowned, turning his gaze towards the dance floor.

Mr. Graves was apparently the eligible widower in Mr. Shaw’s tale. He was waltzing Lady Picquery across the floor, graceful as always. The two moved like they’d been dancing together all their lives; floating over polished tiles, hardly letting their feet touch the ground. Seraphina was resplendent, smiling as she was danced over the moon. Her huge violet dress engulfed Mr. Graves, but never even for a moment tripping the man up or putting him off his step.

“There is nothing scandalous about your fiancé having other men on her dance card, Mr. Shaw,” Credence replied, though he too felt a small pang in his chest seeing how lovely the two of them looked as they danced together.

With a sour face, Mr. Shaw took a long sip of wine and shook his head. “Don’t lie and say you haven’t noticed. Everyone’s noticed. Percival and Seraphina, it’s been all the talk since the funeral. Started up as soon as her sister died. My ‘beloved’ fiancé simply fawns over him to make me jealous.”

Credence’s eyes widened, shocked by Mr. Shaw’s crass language. He tried to breathed, telling himself the man was just drunk. He didn’t truly mean the things he said.

“Excuse me, Mr. Shaw–“

“I don’t blame her really,” Mr. Shaw sighed dramatically, leaning in close against the same wall as Credence. “It’s Seraphina’s duty, I suppose, to offer some comfort to her dearly-departed sister’s husband... But, by God, that man could at least show me some regard. I say, he needs to find himself a new wife already and stop flittering about with what’s mine.”

Something about the man made Credence feel like he could be strong. He could speak up for Mr. Graves and banish Mr. Shaw’s disrespect.

“How dare you speak of the host of this party that way. Mr. Graves is an absolute gentleman and once you’ve married Lady Seraphina, he is your family. Your utter disregard for social etiquette is–”

Mr. Shaw laughed abruptly, startling the women who were fanning themselves a few feet away. He waved them off and when their attention turned away, he smiled callously at Credence. His brow lowering in a dark gaze.

“Oh, the master has such a fine servant in you. So well trained, impeccably loyal, but of course you are... he’s paying you to be,” Mr. Shaw said with a smarmy chuckle. He then looked Credence up and down pointedly. “In fine clothes as well as gold, no less? What a lucky... tutor?... you are.”

Credence sucked in a breath. Mr. Shaw’s insinuation was not lost on him. It had been a long time since he’d even thought of his payments or that he was being paid to exist as a part of Mr. Graves’ home. He was no lord, no member of the noble classes from which all of these guests came. Like the footmen setting out more food, and waiting at the doors with trays of drink, Credence’s only purpose in the house was to offer service to his Lord... and with Oliver upstairs, what those services were was up for speculation.

How unseemly was it for him to be at the party without his young charge? What did people think of him? Of Mr. Graves?

Excusing himself, Credence turned his back on Mr. Shaw and stepped outside. Behind him the other man took yet another long gulp of his wine and pushed off the wall and stumbled back towards the dance floor.

As the dance came to an end, he tapped Mr. Graves on the shoulder, much to Seraphina’s obvious annoyance.

“Mind if I steal my fiancé from you, Percival? Perhaps you can trade places with me. Your boy, Credence, is a fine young man to talk to.”

Raising a brow, Mr. Graves stepped away from his sister-in-law, offering her a gracious bow in thanks for the dance.

He’d noticed Mr. Shaw watching from the sidelines and took some pleasure seeing the man looking bitter as he danced with Seraphina. Still, Mr. Graves had grown nervous when he noticed the insufferable drunkard talking with Credence. Upon a second glance, Credence was gone and Mr. Shaw was now standing before him.

“And where exactly did Credence run off to after you spoke?” Mr. Graves asked, casting the man a suspicious glance.

Mr. Shaw smirked as he shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps just outside. I think he mentioned something about needing to get some air.”

Giving the man his thanks, Mr. Graves left him to be berated by Seraphina for imbibing far too generously for a formal social gathering.

Credence was long gone from the doorway so Mr. Graves stepped into the Manor’s outer corridor. He scanned right and left, but saw no trace of his young lover. He walked through the covered stone arches until he spotted something at the beginning of the path that led out to the gardens. The out-of-place hint of blue caught his eyes.

Credence’s jacket lay neatly folded and handing over a stone bench just inside the last stone arch. Mr. Graves rushed over to it and lifted the still warm fabric into one hand. Looking out over the garden path, he could just make out a speck of white moving further and further away in the distance.

“Credence?” he whispered to himself.

Quickly as he could manage, Mr. Graves divested himself of his own jacket. Leaving it folded atop Credence’s, he ran out after the young man who was slowly disappearing into the rain.

•:۞:•

Letting the water soak him as he walked, Credence rubbed his tearful eyes. He knew his face was wet with rain, that it didn’t matter if he rubbed his tears away or not, but he wiped them anyway.

“Credence!”

His steps faltered and he paused to turn and see Mr. Graves coming up the path behind him. The man, like him, had divested himself of his jacket and was wearing a white shirt that had quickly been soaked through with rain. His hair that had been so neatly done for the party, now hung around his face, dripping wet and messy from his run.

What was worst, was that he looked hurt, as ruined as Credence felt inside.

“What are you doing out here?”

“You need not have to come after me, my Lord,” he said, though he remained still as the man continued to approach.

Mr. Graves stopped two steps from him and let his tense shoulders relax down with a sigh. Credence was fine, just... miserable.

“We’re alone, Credence. Do away with titles.”

“Mr. Graves, I–”

“Please.”

“... Percival.”

“Yes.” The older man smiled. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Credence took a deep, shuddering breath and stared down at his feet. “I cannot stand to be in that room. All those people from high society... I feel embarrassed by my own thoughts and opinions though I know in my heart they are surely right, surely...”

Credence sighed, shaking his head. “I’m simply... so out of place in your world.”

Mr. Graves let out a low huff and turned to look back at the house. Light flooded from the ballroom where he could see the colourful frocks and light spring suits dotting around through the grand open windows.

“This is hardly my world,” Mr. Graves muttered in response.

He was an reclusive man. The isolation of his country manor suited him well enough. His son and his small companionable staff was all the comfort he needed in the world. This high society dance and prattle had no place in his home; they had barged in uninvited.

But, Credence begged to differ.

“No matter how much you try to detach yourself from it, you will always be drawn in just like you were tonight,” he said with images of Mr. Graves beautifully waltzing across the ballroom floor still vivid in his mind’s eye.

“This is your world.”

Silence hung heavy in the air between them.

“Credence, please...” Mr. Graves tried, his voice taking on a weary placating tone. “I still don’t understand... This is absurd. Why did you run out here in the rain?”

No. Something burst in Credence. His chest swelled and his voice shook when he next spoke.

“Of course this is absurd!” he snapped back, on the verge of tears. “I’m not meant to be here. I know that. This is all so far above me, not meant for me. I’m not good enough for– I shouldn’t be in this house.”

“No, Credence. Don’t speak like that,” Mr. Graves took Credence by the shoulders, leaning down to look into the younger man’s lowered face, meeting his glassy gaze. “This is exactly where you should be. Anywhere I am is exactly where you should be.”

Credence shook his head, sucking in a sob. “Mr. Graves, you cannot truly mean that. If our roles were reversed–”

“Then, by God, give me a poor life, but I would still have you! Strip from me my titles and riches, my land and my clothes. Take away these contrived social classes. All of it is meaningless.”

Mr. Graves stepped forward, clasping Credence’s hands in his. He waited for Credence’s eyes to raise up and meet his before he spoke his next ardent words.

“I love you. And I would keep you, if you would be mine.”

Credence sniffed. Biting his lips, he looked down at the large hands encasing his own. Turning his hands in that grip, he held Mr. Graves in return as he replied:

“I would.”

Their smiles were only made brighter when a far off roll of thunder announced the rain’s increased fall. As large drops soaked them to their bones, they held each other’s hand and ran to the cover of a stone pavilion, the garden’s centre piece, that stood at the edge of a pond.

Laughing as they came out of the rain, they held each other in a warming embrace. Their gasping breath slowly evened out after their short dash across the yard.

Mr. Graves looked down at Credence and couldn’t resist the temptation to place a gentle kiss upon his lovers wet lips. Like a parched man, he was tasting the rain.

They could still hear music, even at a distance. The string quartet that had been hired for the night played a slow, but joyful waltz. It drifted out through the open doors, past the sounds of rain and echoed faintly in the stone pavilion.

“Do you dance, Mr. Graves?” Credence asked softly as their kiss broke.

Upon receiving a stern yet amused glance, Credence quickly realized what a ridiculous question that; he’d just seen the man dance not ten minutes earlier.... and he’d spoken so formally again.

With a blush, he corrected himself. “Do you dance, Percival?”

Mr. Graves chuckled at Credence’s charming stutter and red cheeks so obviously flushed against his pale skin.

“Only when I am forced to,” Mr. Graves replied. “But I would willingly dance with you. If you would have me as your partner.”

Credence let out a breath in relief. The smile that lit his face was only rivalled by Mr. Graves’ own.

“I would.”

•:۞:•

They danced to the sound of the stormy rain and the dull music they could barely here over their own breath.

Credence kept one hand in Mr. Graves’ and the other running from the mans neck down to the broad surface of his chest. His steps were unpractised, but his lord was patient, teaching him the moments his own body could so joyously make as he had done so many times before.

They moved with natural coordination. So attuned to each other’s bodies, it was easy to transfer their sensual compatibility onto this, their private dance floor.

And yet, as they moved together, their rain wet bodies pressed flush to one another, they couldn’t help but feel a rising urge swell up. The tension between them was carnal, even in the midst of an innocent waltz.

“Credence,” Mr. Graves’ voice was low as he pressed in closer, lining their bodies up tight. “Let us leave here.”

Credence knew what he wanted; he could feel it pressing hard against his thigh. “But... should we not return to the party soon? Your guests?”

“My sister-in-law’s party. My sister-in-law’s guests. I will hardly be missed. Besides–” Mr. Graves’ tightened his grip along Credence’s waist and leaned in to whisper “– I want you.”

With a lusty sigh, Credence let the hand on Mr. Graves’ face slide up, caressing his angular jawline.

Easily, he replied, “And I you.”

Soaked from the rain, they snuck back into their own home through the conservatory. The music and chatter drowned out their footsteps. With the party still boisterous and ongoing, they passed unnoticed through the halls of Woolworth. Only the light of a single candle on the mantel witnessed them dashing by, unable to keep their hands off each other as they rushed up the stairs towards the master bedroom.

“Wait,” Credence said, just as Mr. Graves placed his hand on the door. “We’ll go to my room, no one will come looking for you there.”

Mr. Graves’ response was to press a kiss to Credence’s lips, drawing a him in only to break away moments later.

“You are devilishly clever,” he murmured.

They moved quietly further down the hall to Credence’s bedroom. It was nowhere near as lavish as the master bedroom, but the large bed was more that sufficient for their needs.

They kissed, unbridled in their love as soon as the door closed silently behind them. Mr. Graves and Credence were forced to constrain their moans and impassioned breaths as the music from the party only just drowned out the sounds of their desire.

“This damnable thing,” Mr. Graves hissed as he struggled to undo buttons and pull the wet shirt from Credence’s arms.

“I thought you liked having me all dressed up for you?” Credence retorted between pressing kisses to Mr. Graves’ neck.

“You should know by now that I prefer you in nothing at all.” Mr. Graves replied. Soon after, he laughed victoriously, finally able to tug the damp shirt out of Credence’s trousers and tossed it away.

Credence bit his lip shyly and before he unclasped and stepped out of his trousers. He stood right up against Mr. Graves’ still clothed form, hiding his nakedness against the man’s body. The lithe exposed line of his figure stirred the man to moan.

“You’ve left me terribly frigid,” Credence complained quite genuinely as he shivered. There was no fire going in the room and his damp skin was chilled in the spring evening’s cool air.

Still, Mr. Graves only chuckled and urged Credence towards the bed.

“Climb beneath the covers. I’ll come warm you up.”

Credence backed towards the bed, watching Mr. Graves’ eyes immediately leave his face to roam down the expanse of the naked body now revealed to him in the moonlight. There was a fire burning behind those eyes, like some lustful, devilish being who was not Mr. Graves existed within the man, only ever making himself known in these erotic moments.

Credence slid onto the bed and tucked himself beneath the sheets, hiding himself from the man once more. Teasing, he knew, was a treatment Mr. Graves both reviled and delighted in.

“You will not be joining me in your soggy things, will you?” Credence asked with a frown, feigning disbelief. “How crude that would be. You must undress immediately.”

Mr. Graves raised a brow, then chuckled and started undoing his buttons. He pulled the shirt from his arms slowly, watching Credence’s eyes and the way his young lover bit his lip at the sight of the man’s body as it was slowly revealed to him. He then removed his trousers, putting his ruddy cock on display.

He was already hard from Credence’s little tease and from the rush of adrenaline he got from running into the house from the garden during the party. It was a thrill knowing anyone could have seen them.

Mr. Graves reached between his legs and wrapped his fist around the base. Standing in the middle of Credence’s bedroom, Mr. Graves stroked the length of his cock to the tip that was nearly dripping with desire. He moved his fist in a crude exhibition of lust. He wanted Credence on him, not his hand.

“Percival,” Credence gasped, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from the utterly vulgar sight. He’d seen the man’s cock hard and aching many a time, but he’d never seen him like this, so crass and openly pleasuring himself to the sight of Credence in bed waiting for him.

With a groan, Mr. Graves stopped, releasing his cock to hang heavy between his legs, twitching with each pounding beat of his heart. He shivered slightly as he stepped forward. He wanted the night to last.

Their lovemaking that night was slow and sensuous. Mr. Graves lay next to Credence, kissing him as his fingers pressed again and again into him, stimulating his body with a small sample of what was to come.

Credence lay relax in bed, his eyes closed, head pressed back into the pillows. He breathed a silent gasp with each thrust from Mr. Graves’ thick fingers. The man stroked him so well, pressing into all the places he knew would send bursts of pleasure tearing through Credence’s body.

He tried to reach between their bodies and stroke the hard length of Mr. Graves’ cock where it was pressing against his thigh with each roll of the man’s hips, but his mind was so consumed by pleasure that he could barely keep up a rhythm. His hand would pause its movements with every overwhelming dip of those fingers between his legs. Even then, he could feel Mr. Graves’ thrusting into his weak grip.

Just as he was approaching his peak, just as he came to the point of no return, Mr. Graves stopped and rolled away, leaving Credence whimpered at his absence.

“Come, Credence,” Mr. Graves called quietly.

Credence looked over to see that the man was holding out a hand to help him off his back. He lifted himself up off the bed and as soon as he took that hand he found himself pulled into the older man’s lap, kneeling over his heaving stomach.

“Look at you.”

Credence was a vision. The moon lit his hair, so black, but haloed in the pale glow of the night. His lithe form was irresistible. From his shaking thighs, up his sides ending at the curve of his collar and throat, Mr. Graves caressed every inch of supple flesh.

“Take me, Credence,” Mr. Graves murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. “Take me inside you.”

Credence leaned back slightly, biting his lip. He could feel Mr. Graves behind him, his cock so hard and needy, pressed between the cleft of his cheeks, its warmth radiating over his skin.

With deft fingers, Credence reached behind himself and gripped that aching length. He stroked his fist along the veiny skin already slick with Mr. Graves’ spend and the oils the man had used to finger him. His movements drew a ragged breath from Mr. Graves, and another as Credence pressed the red tip to his twitching, ready hole.

With a sigh, Credence sank down, letting Mr. Graves’ length fill him. It was a lot to take, but he was used to the length and girth of it. He’d grown to love the sensation of cock stretching him to the brink.

Mr. Graves lay back, stroking Credence’s tense thighs. It was tempting to thrust, but he wanted Credence to set the pace, to ride him as hard or as softly as he liked.

Without must urging, Credence was soon bouncing upon his lap, the skin of his soft round cheeks slapping against Mr. Graves’ thighs each time he raised and lowered his body. His hands moved to Mr. Graves’ chest for leverage, pressing down against hard pectorals as he lifted himself up.

Large hands moved over his body as he rocked himself up and down on that cock. Mr. Graves was rubbing his sides, letting his thumbs play with his nipples. They grew hard, sensitive to the man’s rough digits. He could feel every ridge of the man’s finger print moving over them as he rolled the firm little nubs against his thumbs over and over.

Credence’s thighs were shivering, unable to handle the exertion. He stopped lifting his body up and simply rolled his hips, but the pleasure wasn’t the same, it wasn’t enough. So Mr. Graves took over, pulling Credence close before he rolled them up and then back down onto the mattress. His cock did not once leave Credence’s body as he took his place between the young man’s splayed legs.

Mr. Graves leaned over Credence, their mouths inches apart. Too consumed by their lust to focus on a kiss, they simply breathed with one another, their lips brushing as they panted into each other’s mouths.

Slow and deep, Mr. Graves’ thrust, moving in a way that allowed Credence to feel every thick inch of his cock sliding through his inner channel where his nerves were tantalized to a shivering sensitivity. In and out, he thrust. The muscles of this legs and thighs tightening with each press forward, deeper between Credence’s wide spread thighs.

Credence was a shaking mass of desire beneath Mr. Graves’ pounding body. His blood beat red hot through his veins. Their easy pace had built him up ever so gently that the climax was jarring as it burst through him.

The shuddering jolt of pleasure that wracked Credence’s body was sudden and unexpected as a lash of lightening. He tensed and gripped Mr. Graves’ shoulders. Pulse after pulse dribbled from his cock, driven out by Mr. Graves’ continued thrusts until finally the man stopped. Buried deep, he joined Credence over the carnal threshold.

Laying down embraced beneath the overwarm sheets. Credence kept his legs hooked over Mr. Graves’ thighs, not quite ready to let the man’s cock slip from where it felt so right. They lay there, recovering and kissed until sleep took them.

When the morning came, their two jackets were hanging neatly in Mr. Graves’ armoire in the master bedroom. A small note tied to the hangers was written in Tina’s hand telling them to be more mindful of their formal clothes. She finished the note off saying that she hoped they enjoyed the party, managing to convey sarcasm in her penmanship.

•:۞:•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are on holiday at Woolworth, watching from behind the bushes as Credence and Mr. Graves make out under the spring rain.  
> Your kudos are a bunch of pervy party guests who snuck up stairs and have their ear pressed to Credence’s door.


	10. Epilogue - When I fall in love, it will be forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Sorry it took so long, I was working on that proposal and then the project got accepted so I had to DO IT! Anyway, half a year later and here we are with a little epilogue to tie up the story. A little smut for you all!

•:۞:•

Months passed and turned to years in a haze of domestic bliss.

Credence was fairly certain everyone on staff knew about him and Mr. Graves. Their secret love affair was no longer much of a secret, but the subject was only touched upon with knowing smiles and subtle winks. The grand staff at Woolworth loved the master of their house, and if Mr. Graves loved Credence, well then, they were only too happy for the man.

Oliver was growing up quickly, but Mr. Graves did not yet deign to part with his boy. The Lord couldn’t bare the thought of sending Oliver off for so many long months out of the year, even if it was to one of the best private boarding schools in the country. No. He decided to keep Oliver at home, at least until he was old enough to being his preparatory education.

Despite staying at home to be schooled, Oliver had sadly outgrown Credence’s teaching capabilities. The best tutors in the land came each day to school Oliver in the language arts, mathematics, sciences and music. From morning until afternoon tea they schooled the boy from the comfort of home in that same small drawing room where Credence first met Mr. Graves.

It was a little strange for Credence at first, living at Woolworth despite his duties being deferred. He had wondered what the excuse could be to keep him around without a scandal. He was no longer Oliver’s tutor, the boy was old enough not to need minding outside of his classes and Credence was never trained as a valet, so what business did he have in Mr. Graves’ company at Woolworth Manor?

Thankfully, his gracious Lord had the perfect position lined up for him. It was a job that Credence was more than qualified to preform and he wouldn’t even have to leave the house to attend.

•:۞:•

“Credence do you have that letter from–”

“On your desk.”

“Thank you, and the outline I asked you to–”

“Dated and filed.”

“Right, and that document–”

“Checked for errors, copied, stamped, mailed off and on its way to London as we speak.”

Mr. Graves paused, raising a dark brow. Turning to Credence, he leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“How did I ever get anything done before you?”

Credence resisted the urge to laugh as he tidied the man’s overstocked bookshelves. “You got things done by overworking yourself in this office until dusk settled,” he replied with a smirk of his own.

He walked over to Mr. Graves and handed him a few sheets of paper, forms already filled out.

“Oliver’s preparatory school application for next year.”

With a pleased hum, Mr. Graves took the papers. He sat down, relaxing back into his plush leather chair and began reviewing the information with a sigh.

“I hardly see the point of doing all this,” he muttered more to himself than to Credence. “I could easily just write the headmaster a small missive. As soon as they see the family name on the application they’re bound to shuffle it right to the top anyhow.”

Credence tsk-ed softly. “You should do it the same as everyone else to teach your son that not everything is going to be handed to him on a silver platter... even if it likely will be.”

Mr. Graves forced himself to hold back a laugh as he nodded. “You’re right, my darling. As always.”

With a half-amused huff, Credence turned away from the man.

Working as Mr. Graves’ secretary was quite a task. The man was incorrigible, so set in his ways that even the most rational suggestion for a new system to organize his office sent him off in a manner that would have seemed completely out of character before Credence started working with him.

Still, Credence through to himself as he stared out a window, it was nice that they got to spend more time together during the day. A minor strain on the nerves was a small price to pay for such a luxury.

From the high window, he looked down into the well-groomed yard below. He could see Tina and Newt standing a foot apart in the garden. They seemed to be speaking to one another with hushed voices and ardent expressions.

Credence couldn’t help but smile when Tina wrapped her arms around Newt’s neck and the stable master followed suit, embracing her slender frame to his. They were adorable together.

“I expect we’ll be hearing the wedding bells ringing soon enough.”

Credence turned to see Mr. Graves peaking out over his shoulder.

Credence smiled at the man before turning back.

“I expect so,” he replied.

Mr. Graves watched him and, as he did, noticed the way Credence looked at his friends out in the yard. He could see a shining delight in his lover’s dark eyes. When Newt scooped Tina into an embrace, he saw Credence nip at his own bottom lip, fondly remembering one day alone in the garden when Mr. Graves swept him up into his arms like that.

“Are you very partial to my stable master?” Mr. Graves asked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity as he misread Credence’s expression. “I have not seen you two exchange words.”

Credence laughed breathily as he shot the man a coy look back over one shoulder. “Perhaps we meet in secret.”

“Another secret liaison? Hm... two in one household, how dreadfully scandalous.”

Mr. Graves loomed over Credence, forcing him to look up. The man’s larger frame came closer until he was pressed back into a nearby wall.

Credence gazed up at Mr. Graves through a line of thick black lashes.

“Is that a hint jealousy I hear in your voice, Percival?”

Mr. Graves knew Credence was teasing, but he allowed himself to play his young lover’s little game.

“Perhaps I should not have let such a little tart teach my son,” he whispered hotly in reply. His hands were already beginning to run over Credence's slender frame, priming him with want for more than a soft touch. 

As Mr. Graves eyed him up and down, Credence bit his lip to hold back a sly smile. He reached up and slid his pale fingers over his Lord’s neck, slipping long digits into his cravat and drawing it loose. The fine silk gave and came away, sliding over Mr. Graves’ neck, inducing a shiver. Credence did so love to tease.

Mr. Graves looked away, casting a glance around, making sure no one was spying at the window or coming through the door. He leaned over Credence, lips grazing the shell of the other man’s ear.

“Don’t we have some business to attend? You and I?”

“Oh?” Credence said, feigning a charming naivety he could no longer claim to have. “Will you be needing me in my capacity as your new legal secretary, your son’s carer or your lover?”

Mr. Graves pulled back gently. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked with Credence.

Then he simply smiled.

“Whichever you prefer,” Mr. Graves practically growled at him.

Credence sucked in a breath.

Mr. Graves, too, was an adept tease.

•:۞:•

Breathless groans and the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin, filled the study that afternoon. With the curtains drawn, the room was dark. Only a ruddy atmospheric light slipped through the fabric that covered the windows.

Mr. Graves leaned back in his chair, gripping the arms with his blunt nails digging into the hide. The most delicious sounds erupted from deep within his chest as he watched his young lover move above him.

Credence sat in his lap with his pants pulled down over the curve of his rear, just far enough to give Mr. Graves’ largess access to his supple entrance. After that night they shared together during the holiday ball, they’d both discovered a shared fondness for this new position with Credence riding on top.

Mr. Graves smoothed his hands all over the young man’s exposed cheeks, spreading them and dipping his fingers inbetween. He could feel where they were connected, where his cock stretched Credence with each penetrating thrust. The wet heat of Credence body took him so well and sent pleasure coursing through both of of them, flooding their minds and flesh until it seemed as if whispers of dark pleasure would burst from them.

Credence gasped as Mr. Graves tried to slip just the tip of his little finger inside next to his cock. The stretch was too much, too good.

It was so incredibly naughty, sharing such passion in the light of day. They’d never done this in Mr. Graves study in an attempt to keep things professional as Credence began working as his assistance.

Now, they were throwing all of that hard-won restraint out the window.

Credence was gripping the back of the Lord’s plush leather chair for support as his lower back pressed into the edge of a mahogany desk. He rode Mr. Graves, guided by strong hands at his waist that caressed his flesh and eased him up and down again and again over the thick length of the older man’s cock.

As pleasure shot electric through their veins, their lusty kisses broke with a gasp. Their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled, moist in the air between them as they moved with each other. They both panted against each other’s lips as ecstasy coursed through them, building and building tight until–

“Daddy?”

Credence immediately froze, his fingers digging into Mr. Graves’ shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. Still clothed from the waist up, the rest of nakedness was thankfully blocked by the line of the desk, saving Oliver’s innocent little eyes.

“Good afternoon, Ollie,” Mr. Graves said after clearing his throat. “I– We thought you were having your riding lessons this afternoon.”

“We finished early because Tina came out to talk to Newt. She said I should go find Queenie and Queenie said I should go find you because it’s time for tea.” Oliver’s gaze shifted between the two of them, back and fourth, taking in everything and nothing all at once.

“Daddy...?”

Casually as possible, Mr. Graves tried to smile without closing his eyes at the sensation of Credence’s tense body clenched tight around him.

“Yes, my boy?”

“How come Credence is on your lap?”

Credence choked and Mr. Graves loudly cleared his throat. The both wanted to adjust their position, but any movement was still sending completely inappropriate bursts of pleasure coursing through them.

“Ah, you like sitting in my lap, don't you Ollie?” Mr. Graves asked of his son, who nodded giddily in response. “Well, so does Credence… sometimes.”

“Oh!” Oliver exclaimed. Of course, it seemed so obvious now. “Alright, well, Queenie is brining tea to the sitting room and Mr. Kowalski promised his best biscuits.”

“That sounds lovely, Oliver,” Credence gasped out, even though he was trying so hard to disguise how breathless he was. “I was just... talking with your father, we'll be down for tea soon.”

“Okay!” Oliver giggled as he skipped out of the room. He turned back to them briefly with one hand on the doorknob and smiled bright. “You should make him do horsey like he used to when I was littler, Credence! It's such fun!”

As soon as Oliver closed the door behind him, Mr. Graves wrapped his fingers around the back of Credence’s neck and pulled him in for a heated kiss. Credence gasped into his mouth as he claimed the young man’s lips.

Every thrusts was sharper than the last, hard and heavy as Mr. Graves buried himself into the young man bouncing in his lap. The furious pace came as the older man hurried towards completion before anyone else could interrupt.

“Percival!” Credence gasped, his voice barely a whisper as his cock dribbled wet onto Graves’ vest.

Blushing a furious red, Credence bit his knuckle to keep from crying out. He wanted so badly to scream, but he just couldn’t now remembering that the rest of the household was so near, just outside an unlocked door. Anyone could walk in and they would not be so naïve as little Oliver.

“Please–"

“Yes,” Mr. Graves hissed in response. He pulled Credence down onto his cock in a final deep thrust. Groaning low, he released inside of his young lover, his cock twitching as he spent his pleasure deep.

Credence in his lap all but screamed, his fingers digging into the back of Mr. Graves’ neck, holding on for dear life as pleasure erupted from him, ruining both of their vests. His body shook, wracked with sensation as the heat of his climax burned.

Mr. Graves kissed him as he shivered. As Credence came down from his blissful high, the man’s thumbs massaged his hips, sliding over the jutting bone and dipping between his legs where a mess awaited his searching fingers. His thumb caught on a pool of slick and he reached up to lap the salty essence away from his digit.

Mr. Graves' eyes did not once leave Credence's as he ran his tongue over the pad of his thumb. 

“You are a horribly lecherous man, Mr. Graves,” Credence whispered in a voice that was hoarse from holding back screams.

Mr. Graves hummed and buried his face in Credence’s neck to hide his smile.

“And yet you still cannot help yourself around me,” he replied between kisses pressed to the pale line of his boy’s throat.

“I admit, I cannot.”

And he never would.

•:۞:•

Not one season later they sat together in the pews at Tina Goldstein and Newt Scamander’s wedding, watching the bride and groom tearfully say their vows in the little village church one sunny afternoon.

Oliver was beaming as he hugged his ring bearer’s pillow to his chest. He stood on the stage between Newt’s best man, Jacob Kowalski, and Tina’s obvious choice of brides’ maid, her sister, Queenie. Oliver sweetly held Queenie’s hand as tears began to well up in her smiling blue eyes.

On the pew near the front, Credence and Mr. Graves watched the gorgeous couple with love in their hearts. They smiled as the two stuttered adorably through their vows.

Sitting close, shoulder to shoulder, they leaned warmly into one another as the rings were exchanged. Between their thighs, just out of sight, their fingers entwined and their own matching rings clicked together as they held hands.

•:۞:•

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Woolworth Manor <3 I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, for the last time:
> 
> Your kudos are love everlasting
> 
> Your comments live happily ever after
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [itsanidiom](http://itsanidiom.tumblr.com/)


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